Chapter 1375 - Chapter 1375: Towards the Long Night, Towards the Dawn

Chapter 1375: Towards the Long Night, Towards the Dawn

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When Silvan entered the room, Ji Shanqing heard him but didn’t turn around. He was lying beside the medical pod, his chin resting on the back of his hand, staring fixedly at the unconscious Lin Sanjiu. Humans living on the ground would probably never know that just one breath was needed, and their world would be devoured by an immense and boundless black hole.

The only one who knew was Silvan, who was now sitting on a chair.

Lin Sanjiu’s life was saved, and all other injuries were not an issue. Her body and abilities were currently in a temporary disorder but could be restored to their original data and were gradually recovering.

However, a few minutes ago, Ji Shanqing still dared not consider his emotions. Fortunately, he did not devour the world under their feet, and he did not devour himself. He could still see when Lin Sanjiu opened her eyes, and he wouldn’t fear when she saw him.

“The wounded are stable now,” Silvan said after examining Lin Sanjiu. “Will she wake up soon?”

Ji Shanqing wanted to shoo him away like a fly, but he remained still and silent.

“Two of Xiao Jiu’s companions are in their hands and need rescuing.”

Ji Shanqing couldn’t help but sit up and say, “Do you think Exodus is heading somewhere? Just be prepared to go down and save them when the time comes.”

Silvan smiled a rather annoying smile.

After spending some time together, they figured out each other’s general behavior and how to deal with each other. Ji Shanqing was well aware of tactics, but when he put on the, “I understand things from her perspective” attitude, Ji Shanqing couldn’t stand it.

Fortunately, this man knew when to stop. Silvan sat down and asked, “Do you also think those two are still alive?”

“A big spaceship like this rises into the air, and they aren’t blind, so they must know that not all posthumans died in the nuclear explosion. Of course, they must keep the hostages safe.” Ji Shanqing lowered his cold eyes and concentrated on his sister again. “Even if we were really all dead, they wouldn’t be able to kill those two posthumans immediately. As far as I know, they seem to have a special interest in posthuman organs, especially the kidneys.”

Silvan’s fingers went into his golden hair, gathering it behind his head, and he sighed softly. “It seems adrenaline has given them a big misunderstanding.”

Ji Shanqing wasn’t interested in other people’s exclamations.

During their silence, Exodus, with half of its propulsion system damaged, made an even louder noise as the engines ran abnormally. Looking out of the medical room’s observation window, the earth floating with a few strands of clouds seemed to have frozen, motionless. When people were not visible, it was as if the world had no problems.

When Ji Shanqing suddenly heard his voice, he realized he was speaking. Besides Silvan, there seemed to be no one else who could be a suitable-sounding board—and he had indeed suppressed many words.

“I don’t know how to approach my sister,” he heard himself say. “After she wakes up, she will only be more determined to change this world, and she won’t just leave it be. Of course, change is not a problem… Whether it’s AI ruling or returning to prehistoric times, it’s just different in terms of technical operation and time spent.”

Of course, he hadn’t mentioned the Veda matter to Silvan, but Silvan had never questioned his abilities.

The blond man looked outside the window and softly added the second half of Ji Shanqing’s sentence. “Are you worried about the changes after the transformation?”

The so-called “worry” was undoubtedly an exaggerated statement. For Ji Shanqing, all humans’ joys and sorrows, dreams and fates, were nothing more than data that could be deleted with a single click. He cared because Lin Sanjiu cared.

“Yes. The changes caused by external intervention won’t last long, especially after the external forces leave.” Ji Shanqing reached out and held his sister’s fingers. “How do I tell her that I suspect this world will return to its original state not long after we leave?”

Of course, he could say nothing and let his sister leave this place in a calm mood, as they probably wouldn’t come back again. However, he had witnessed the battle in which his sister was covered in blood, seen her fall but still cling to the determination to save this world, and observed her trembling fist when Deng Yilan screamed. The first time he saw Lin Sanjiu confronting a colossal creature with her own strength, she seemed unfamiliar, sorrowful, angry, yet hopeful, struggling to shine in the darkness.

If this struggle between Lin Sanjiu and the world ended with deception, would be a betrayal of his sister that he could not endure.

A faint sound of rolling bones came from the door. Ji Shanqing heard it, and he believed Silvan did, too, but neither turned to look.

“Perhaps you are too pessimistic about them,” the blond man replied after a few seconds. “From a biological perspective, the people in this world are no different from people in other worlds at the genetic level; the only difference is their cultural upbringing.”

“I’m worried that the cultural upbringing they’ve received has become deeply ingrained and is now a part of their thought genes.” Ji Shanqing sounded concerned, but his tone was calm. “I know more things than you. I absorbed a lot of data about this world as soon as I arrived.”

Silvan made a questioning snort.

“It would take writing a whole book to explain everything in detail,” Ji Shanqing said. He looked down at his sister, gently pushing away a strand of hair from her face. “Let me just tell you about one aspect that came to my mind. The people in this world, living a stable life with no worries about food and clothing, do not explore higher things after their basic needs are met. Instead, they see stability itself as the greatest fortune and losing it as the greatest terror. Living in a society with abundant material resources, they still maintain a doomsday-refugee-like anxiety.”

Silvan knew he hadn’t finished.

“Why? Because this order wasn’t born from their own virtue; it was passively created under strong constraints. As a group, they lack the ability and means to produce their own order, so they instinctively fear any potential chaos. This anxiety is irrational, which is why they are willing to give up other equally important things in exchange.”

Ji Shanqing smiled lightly and said, “For example, there is another way to treat posthumans in this world, which, upon closer examination, is quite unstable.”

“There’s another way?” Silvan raised an eyebrow.

Ji Shanqing briefly explained, “It doesn’t seem complicated, but using this method requires educating the public, giving them a certain level of logical reasoning. When they encounter a posthuman, they rely on the witnesses to make logical judgments and take responsible actions for the subsequent procedures… After that, the entire area receives an alert, and everyone decides for themselves whether to leave the scene or stay indoors. Not to mention that there might be people who will interact with the posthuman. It sounds chaotic, doesn’t it?”

He didn’t expect Silvan to agree but continued, “In this inevitable chaos, people learn how to maintain a dynamic balance and produce order on their own. Unfortunately, this is not the mainstream, and this approach is often eliminated by inferior methods. In most worlds, the sand is clenched in an iron fist.”

“This creates a vicious cycle,” Silvan murmured, “because they can’t take responsibility for external affairs, they also can’t learn to take responsibility for external affairs. Under strong constraints, they lack the ability to produce their own order, so they can’t do without strong constraints.”

“Yes, when individuals realize that they have no power, they admire and envy things with power.” Ji Shanqing sighed. “In the midst of change, we can certainly act as a force of constraint, but…”

Silvan thought for a moment and chuckled. “Yes,” he said. He slid down a bit from the chair, leaning lazily against it, and looked up at the ceiling. “That means we have granted power to a new group with a higher level of force.”

Ji Shanqing nodded. “So, once we leave, the higher force will cease to exist, and the secondary force will occupy the position of the authority. As for power… it has always only been accountable to its source. By then, perhaps those in power will change, and everything else will return to its original state. The only fundamental solution lies in the change of people, but that’s something we can’t achieve overnight. Only the people in this world can do that.”

When he reached this point, he suddenly noticed Lin Sanjiu’s eyelashes trembling slightly. It was as if his internal organs suddenly returned to their proper places, and his heart could start beating again. He hurriedly leaned over and called out in a trembling voice, “Sis?”

Silvan stood up and took a few steps back, stopping by the window.

When Lin Sanjiu opened her eyes, her gaze fell first on Ji Shanqing. The moment she saw him, he couldn’t help but tremble—as if darkness had slid away from the planet and light had ignited the horizon, restoring color, shape, and meaning to everything.

“Grand prize,” she croaked. “I’m… on the ship?”

Ji Shanqing had forgotten how to speak; he just kept nodding. He didn’t even notice when Silvan returned. When his sister’s gaze shifted away, he felt like he had fallen back into darkness, even if it was just for a brief moment.

“What about the others?” Lin Sanjiu asked in a still unclear voice. She moved slightly, propping herself up with her arm. “I remember… there was a nuclear explosion? Are they injured?”

The faint sound of rolling bones came closer to the room.

Everyone in the room looked up simultaneously, their gaze falling on the newcomer.

Wu Lun’s face was pale, as if her soul had disappeared. Her empty gaze seemed to see through anyone she looked at as if it could pass through their bodies and fall into the void with bewilderment.

“Wu Lun,” Lin Sanjiu called out to her as she sat up, but the second half of her sentence got stuck in her throat.

Wu Lun was sitting in a wheelchair, and where her legs used to be, only a blanket covered them now.

Her eyes slowly swept over the people present, as if the sound of her eyeballs scraping against her eyelids could almost be heard.

“I just came after seeing Han Suiping,” she began in a low voice, but it seemed like she forgot what she was going to say. “Han Suiping said he has no connection to this world anymore, and Deng Yilan is dead.”

Lin Sanjiu’s face turned pale.

Wu Lun stared blankly at the thin blanket draped over the wheelchair and continued, “I’m the only one left from this world, about to return to this world again. But I don’t know what kind of place I’ll be going back to.”

For a moment, no one spoke. Ji Shanqing had already vaguely guessed what she was going to say next.

Wu Lun lifted her head, and a tear fell, streaking down her face.

“I’m sorry, can… can I choose the future of this world?”

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