Chapter 348

Chapter 348: Chapter 345: "But They Clearly Look Very HappyThe teleportation’s white light gradually faded away.

Su Ming’an saw a brightly lit room.

Golden crystal chandeliers swung a beautiful, dazzling circle of light, like crushed stars, scattered across the scarlet carpet.

Directly opposite the teleportation formation was an empty chair, and beyond it, a huge window overlooking the entirety of Pulaya. From here, one could see the tombstone-like stillness of the houses at night, the energy light waves occasionally exploding in the alleys, and the deep, rich black waters of Pulaya.

On the walls of the room, there hung paintings at uniform intervals. Inside red lacquered frames were sceneries from beyond Pulaya. There were forests of fallen red maple leaves, distant seas reflecting the shadow of Cloud City, and streets glowing red under the setting sun...

Among these, Su Ming’an saw a somewhat strange painting.

It was the only portrait among all the landscape paintings.

A person wearing a robe stood in front of a violently burning church, releasing a burning white dove from their hands.

Blood red crisscrossed the canvas, as the white dove beat its charred wings towards the sky, feathers falling to the ground like sparking embers.

It looked incredibly poignant.

"...Welcome to the Tulip King Court of Pulaya."

The woman’s voice came from outside the door.

As the carved small door creaked open, a dash of bright yellow entered.

She was draped in a bright red cape, wrapped in a long golden dress. Perhaps because it was nighttime, she wasn’t wearing a crown; her dark gold hair cascaded over her shoulders, and her light-colored eyes were extremely vibrant.

Seeing Su Ming’an standing by the teleportation formation, she slightly curled her lips, revealing an extremely elegant and perfect smile.

Like seeing an old friend after a long absence, her brows and eyes curved, her eyes holding a genuine smile.

"Welcome back," she said,

"It’s been a long time, Su Rin."

The night was dark and deep.

Above the square, the statue of the boss rabbit emitted multicolored light, the fountain made "whooshing" sounds in the night, and some players sat around the statue.

Most of them were either fiddling with materials in their hands or watching the livestream in front of them. This was their work and life, their way of existing in such a world.

"The Seventh World is really relaxing," said the forging player piecing together equipment and props.

"Mhm, it feels like there’s no difficulty at all," replied the girl beside him, sipping her milk tea.

The boy turned his head, "It’s not like there’s no difficulty at all. Xiao Li, haven’t you been watching too many livestreams of top-ranking players?"

"To feel good you definitely have to watch the top-ranking players, the show’s effects are better too." Xiao Li gestured across the livestream interface in front of her; she was watching Lv Shu’s livestream.

Although Lv Shu was completely silent, the barrage of comments in his stream was very effective. The viewers were well-versed in everything from astronomy to geography, and just by watching the comments she was practically self-studying the knowledge equivalent to that of a 211 university.

Listening to Xiao Li’s words, the boy shook his head and assumed the posture of a teacher:

"You know, Xiao Li, supporting those less-advanced players is also important. Look at those top-ranking players; they’re not short of supporters. Our presence would just be icing on the cake. It’s better to look for those players at the back who have no audience. Just a few words to them and they’ll be over the moon. They’ll respond to me and even prioritize my opinions... That feels much more involving."

"If you want to feel involved, why don’t you go play yourself?" The girl slurped her milk tea, shook the cup, and the sunken pearls bubbled up to the top.

"Hey, drink it like this." The boy set down the prop in his hand, took the girl’s hand, and tilted the cup for her.

Warmth passed between their palms, and seeing the boy’s hand covering hers, the girl’s face reddened slightly.

"...Well, I’m doing this to keep you company, Xiao Li." The boy whispered in her ear, and the temperature around them seemed to rise: "Our parents aren’t around. If I were to die or happen upon a world like White Sand Paradise and completely lose my mind, what would you do?"

Xiao Li gave him a gentle push: "You won’t go crazy. You’re very optimistic."

"...That’s debatable." The boy said with a cheeky grin: "I was browsing the forums, and I saw a lot of people saying there are many who appear normal or even optimistic and cheerful on the outside, but deep down they suffer from mental illness—it’s a tricky thing, invisible, and you wouldn’t even know you were sick without going to the hospital to check."

"So, are we actually keeping ourselves away from danger?" Xiao Li hesitated for a moment.

She still felt somewhat guilty for not participating herself, remaining a mere leisurely, casual player.

"Look." The boy pulled up an interface for her to see: "This order comes from the World Tree Guild."

The girl saw that it was an order for forging equipment with a high reward.

"World Tree Guild?" She was stunned: "How did you get involved with them? Aren’t they a super-large guild from the West? You..."

"That’s right." The boy raised his head high, looking very pleased with himself: "I’ve latched onto a big leg. Their guild was recently recruiting freelance forging masters, and I was lucky enough to sign a long-term contract with them."

"Really?" The girl tossed aside her milk tea and hugged him tightly: "You’re amazing, Jun Yi!"

She knew what a long-term contract signified.

Rewards meant points, and points meant a lifestyle above others.

Points are hard to earn. The income of players is pyramid-shaped, with fewer and fewer people earning more and more. Signing a long-term contract meant that even if the game ended, their harvest could be guaranteed.

"See, I told you my choice at the beginning was right." The boy spoke with a note of pride: "Exploring various worlds is indeed thrilling, but after visiting a few, I feel it’s just so-so. I see those trash players, tiring themselves out, just becoming fodder for others, not happy at all. Unlike us, we live leisurely and have a steady income... Xiao Li, don’t worry. I swore at the start of the game that I would take good care of you, I’ll definitely provide the best life for you... You just need to peacefully enjoy your streams. Leave the task of crafting and earning points to me..."

Xiao Li hugged him, resting her head on his shoulder and looking blissfully happy.

This couple, who had made promises to each other, embraced under the colorful lights.

The milk tea cup rolled on the ground and was suddenly stepped on by a shoe.

A figure different from the leisurely people around, sped by with a fast pace, almost running.

He ran past the "splashy" fountain, past the happy people, and rushed into the night as if a monster was chasing him.

Xiao Li straightened up, feeling as though she recognized that person.

"...Who is that?" Having mixed with the streaming crowd for months, she was familiar with all the famous players, and she seemed to have a vague recollection of that young man’s face.

"Don’t know." Jun Yi moved closer to her again. Seeing her still watching that person, he became somewhat jealous and blocked her view with his hand: "Forget about him already, Xiao Li... I’m telling you, once the game is over, we’ll have saved up a lot of points. I will exchange them for many benefits. I believe, by then, your dad will definitely approve of us..."

Xiao Li hugged him tighter.

She treasured this sense of happiness, no parental supervision, no material constraints—being with each other was the most carefree thing.

The festive atmosphere on the eve of Christmas Eve was gradually thickening.

String lights twinkled at the street’s edge, the gentle sounds of the piano music wafting through the night air.

Whispering couples embraced by the fountain, while nearby a middle-aged man with a slight hunch walked leisurely, and unsupervised children played, running from one end of the street to the other.

In the livestream, comments floated by like snowflakes.

Everything seemed incredibly serene.

The always rushing youth ran across the street and came to a halt in front of a building.

He was about to go in when a person, who seemed to have been waiting for a long time, approached.

The waiting person appeared to be in his thirties, with youthful features but eyes that looked somewhat desolate. Hands behind his back, he had an imposing presence without showing anger.

"Mo Yan, you’re here?" the man asked, his voice low.

"I’m here," Mo Yan replied.

He hadn’t entered the arena again after the Sixth World ended.

The reason was simple.

...He sensed something was off about himself.

During breaks, when conversing with his sword, he could feel a distinct resistance.

It was as though someone was breathing on his neck, and even when he slept at night, he felt as though someone was lying on the ceiling above.

He tried to look and saw Flax’s face.

The face of Flax in White Sand Paradise.

...He knew he was hallucinating; even with his firm resolve, the Truth Serum he drank during the confession session caused psychological traumas that were not healed.

He concealed this fact, choosing to visit the World Forum to see how other players dealt with such situations.

...And then he saw countless abuses directed at him.

Many of these abuses were unreasonable, targeting him simply because he had once been seen with the Number One Player. They cursed him, looking for reasons to do so, as if insulting him would elevate their status.

They accused him of having ulterior motives, called him a sycophant, criticized him as a hindrance, said he lacked a clear role. They used every insulting word they could muster, analyzing him from every angle as if determined to nail him to the pillar of shame for a few acts.

He felt aggrieved, and for a while, he turned inwards. He wondered if he had done something wrong to be subject to such vilification.

So, he reflected, he corrected himself, and he paid attention to those posts that criticized him, hoping to improve.

Then, by chance, he stumbled upon other posts.

...The same kind of abuse.

Only this time, the targets of criticism were different. Some were about Su-style, Yu Ruohuo, Xiao Xiao, Qin Ze, and he even saw posts attacking Lv Shu and Yuanyuan.

They always managed to pick out the "malevolence of human nature," and then wildly speculated, cursing others with the greatest malice. As soon as someone stepped into the spotlight, they would start bashing, because these individuals did not match their idealized image of a saint.

Thus, Mo Yan gradually came to understand.

It wasn’t something he did wrong; it was just that this group enjoyed cursing others.

They unilaterally imposed the responsibility of being "perfect" on certain people, then watched over them like supervisors. By doing so, as "judges," they would always be beyond reproach.

——And as the ones pointing fingers at others, the more they criticized, the more glorious they seemed to become.

Mo Yan followed the man into the snowy white building.

As soon as he entered, he was hit with the strong smell of disinfectant, a scent familiar to him from his time in White Sand Paradise.

He looked up.

In the hospital ward, down the corridors, faint sobs could be heard. People in hospital gowns walked like zombies, their tearful relatives and friends trailing beside them.

The entire snowy white building seemed to be sunk in an ocean of sorrow.

"Mo Yan, your brother’s condition is still good," the man beside him said. "His mental state is fairly normal, and since being hospitalized, his condition has been good, although occasionally he harbors thoughts of self-abandonment. You don’t need to come so often to see him."

"I just have nothing else to do," Mo Yan brushed past a patient who was covering his face and weeping on a bench. "Plus, my younger brother’s gone to the Seventh World. If I don’t come, no one will be here for my brother."

"Nothing to do? I remember you teamed up with the Number One Player in the Sixth World, didn’t you? They say you earned his trust, and I’m sure plenty of organizations would want to contact you," the man stroked his bearded chin. "Why don’t you seize the opportunity to talk with the Number One Player, ask him to bring you along to the Seventh World? Isn’t your little brother Mo Wen already teamed up with someone? What about you? Why not give it a shot?"

"My brother is able to team up with them because his skills are powerful. As for me, there’s no need to force it," Mo Yan said. "I’ve turned off private messages and didn’t add my elder brother as a friend. I don’t want to get involved with him."

"So you’re deliberately not trying to contact him?" the man laughed.

"I’m not good enough, no need to drag my elder brother down."

"..." After a moment of silence, the man spoke again. "Mo Yan, have you read what those people on the forum say?"

Mo Yan looked up, silent.

The harsh white light of the hospital swept across his eyes, giving his expression a frightening serenity.

"A dog will bite the person it fears more vehemently than the one who yells at it. If you try to run, it becomes even more ferocious, as if it can’t wait to chase and attack you from behind. It revels in the sight of your panicked flight," the man said. "...This is true for dogs, but in some ways, animals have commonalities with humans—you needn’t take those fools seriously. The more you avoid and stay silent, the more rampant and delighted they become in their barking."

Mo Yan gazed at him, his eyes eerily calm.

"What about big brother then?" he asked.

"That depends on how you see him," the man replied. "Do you see him as your close elder brother, or as the unattainable Number One Player? Is he someone who gives you hope, or... someone who drags you into the mire of public opinion?"

"My big brother is just my big brother," Mo Yan said.

The man laughed cryptically.

"In a way, your elder brother hasn’t done anything wrong," he said. "His way of dealing with those voices is very effective. Don’t you think the forum’s mob is just a bunch of self-talking clowns?"

Mo Yan listened, pondering.

"...But those clowns seem to be jumping around quite happily,"

he said.