102: Chapter 102 Necessary Sacrifice

Dead silence.

An absolute silence, like the heat death of the universe.

The pangu project mecha, half-kneeling upon the earth, became a cold tombstone branded onto everyone's retinas.

What it guarded was the Creation Spark behind it, flickering weakly like a candle in the wind.

And what it faced was that slowly writhing black sun, seemingly mocking all their efforts.

Hope had been completely "deleted" three seconds ago.

Within the Alliance channel, all communications had been severed.

It wasn't a technical glitch, but a collective loss of speech.

No one knew what to say, and no one had the strength left to say anything.

Ten of the top God-tier Operators, along with their lifelong pride, had vanished into nothingness; not even a trace of their existence could be found on the roster of the Hall of Valor.

Outlaw Zhang San stood on the command platform, his fingers gripping the metal edge of the console so hard his knuckles turned white.

His mind was calmer than ever before, yet also more desperate than ever before.

He had simulated countless possibilities and calculated every variable, but every single result pointed to the same conclusion—in the face of absolute conceptual erasure, all tactics and courage were merely a joke.

The gap was too wide.

This wasn't a gap in equipment or levels, but a crushing defeat across dimensions.

They were like two-dimensional soldiers on a piece of paper, trying to use swords to fight against a three-dimensional hand holding an eraser.

Ninth Prince Ji Haoyue slumped to the ground. This favored son of heaven, who once had ambitions as high as the sky and intended to stir up a wave of reform in the Holy Lands, now looked as pale as death.

He looked at the steel wreckage and then up at the black sun, his entire body trembling uncontrollably.

It wasn't fear, but a sense of nothingness after one's beliefs had been completely shattered.

He finally understood that whether it was the Daoist arts of cultivators or the miracles of players, in the face of this true apocalypse, they were all equally insignificant and powerless.

The world was already dead.

Amidst this frozen despair, a voice rang out without warning from the deepest depths of every living soul.

The voice wasn't loud, yet it drowned out all the wind and wailing in heaven and earth.

The voice was ancient and weary, as if it carried the weight of eternal time, yet it possessed an unquestionable Majesty belonging to the "Rules" themselves.

It was the Old Ancestor.

"Pangu... has not lost."

The voice was very soft, yet it was like a heavy hammer smashing into everyone's hearts.

What?

Zhang San jerked his head up, a flash of bewilderment in his eyes.

"It has won... for us and for this world, the final variable."

The Old Ancestor's voice continued, steady and unhurried.

Following his words, all survivors—whether players or local cultivators—felt their perspective gently lifted by an irresistible force, passing over the wreckage of Pangu to look at the weakly pulsing creation furnace.

That dormant Heart of the World, under Pangu's protection, remained unharmed.

Then, a grand and ancient "blueprint" slowly unfolded in everyone's minds.

It was an incredibly complex operational logic that transcended all formations and laws of this world.

The core of the blueprint was the creation furnace, and its endpoint pointed toward a blurred yet supremely majestic humanoid silhouette.

"To restart the furnace, energy is needed, and a 'God' is required as the core."

The Old Ancestor's voice sounded as if he were stating an established fact.

"Energy can be filled by sacrificing all things. But a 'God' cannot be created; it can only be... forged."

He paused, and the pressure originating from the soul suddenly intensified, making everyone hold their breath.

"I am the chosen 'Core'."

"My origin is the authority of the warden of this God Prison. I am qualified to take that seat and become the new Will of the World."

These words were like a thunderclap exploding over the silent battlefield!

The local cultivators, including the Ninth Prince, had faces full of unbelievable shock.

The Old Ancestor... is to become the new Heavenly Dao?

!

How... how is this possible?!

!

As for the players, they were stunned for half a second before a light called "madness" reignited in countless eyes.

"But..." The Old Ancestor's tone shifted with a heavy sigh.

"I am merely a 'seed'—a seed that has the qualification but lacks the power to break through the soil. To ignite the divine fire, smelt the world's origin, and 'push' this remnant soul of mine onto the divine throne requires a force of the purest, most stainless 'Will' imaginable, one that transcends this world, to serve as fuel and thrust."

"The sacrifices of local beings can turn into energy, but they cannot become this thrust. Because their souls were born of this world and are bound by its laws."

"Only you..."

The Old Ancestor's voice precisely locked onto every single player.

"Only you, the 'variables' from beyond the heavens. Your souls do not belong here; your very existence is a 'violation' of this world's laws. You are born connected to the 'Dao' outside of this world."

"When you choose to completely sever that 'link' and opt for 'permanent death,' the purest soul-light you emit—untouched by this world—will be the only, and the final, Skyship that pushes me onto the divine throne."

Using me as the ship, forging you into a god.

The moment the words fell, the entire world seemed to go quiet.

Before every player's eyes, a blood-red system notification box with a mythical glow suddenly popped up in an undeniable manner!

[Mythical World Quest Issued!]

[Quest Name: Please Help the Old Ancestor Ascend!]

[Quest Description: This world needs a new deity. And the path to the divine throne is covered in thorns and bones. The Old Ancestor (Lu Bei) already stands beneath the throne, but he needs a thrust from beyond the heavens to send him to that supreme position. Players, you are that final 'thrust'.]

[Quest Objective: Launch an attack against the final enemy (Outer God · True Form). During the battle, every time you 'die,' it will be a 'Permanent Death.' Your resurrection ability, system interface, and even all traces belonging to a 'player' will turn into a handful of the purest kindling, merging into the Old Ancestor's spirit body to help him ignite the divine fire.]

[Quest Reward: A brand new world.]

[Failure Penalty: The server will be permanently closed, and the world will return to eternal silence.]

[Accept] / [Decline]?

There was no countdown.

No urging.

Only two cold options quietly floated before each player, waiting for their final decision.

A deathly silence descended once more.

This silence was even more oppressive and heavy than before.

Decline?

To linger on for a brief moment and then be erased along with this world by the evil god.

Accept?

It meant actively stepping onto a path of death from which there was no return, using everything one had as fuel to gamble on an ethereal future.

This was no longer a game.

This was the most cruel exam presented to every soul.

Time ticked away, second by second.

Suddenly.

*Pfft—*

An irrepressible chuckle rang out abruptly in the public channel.

It was Keyboard Warrior Governing the Nation.

He adjusted his non-existent glasses and said in a sleepwalking tone, "Holy shit... this... is the most badass ultimate quest flavor text I've ever seen..."

This laugh was like a pebble thrown into stagnant water, instantly stirring up a thousand ripples.

"Ha... haha... Hahahaha!"

Elsewhere, Charge to the End suddenly stood up from the ground. Wiping the blood from the corner of his mouth, he let out a fit of manic laughter toward the sky.

"Permanent death? Damn it! From the day I created this character, I never expected to delete it while still alive! Come on! Is there any final boss fight more thrilling than this?!"

"Let's do it!"

"Count me in! Pot Lid Army, form ranks! We are the Old Ancestor's first ship!"

"Where is the Divine Wind Battalion! Are you ready for your final 'delivery'?"

"Life-skill players requesting to join the battle! We might not be able to deal damage, but we can die on the path of the charge!"

One voice, ten voices, hundreds and thousands of voices!

Like a powder keg being ignited, the emotions suppressed to the extreme exploded at this moment!

They didn't just select [Accept].

They gave their answer directly through their actions!

Countless players had the same light shining in their eyes—a light that faced death with equanimity, mixed with solemnity, fanaticism, and supreme glory!

The expressions on their faces were no longer of sorrow or despair, but a brilliant, extreme, and mad smile!

"Brothers! Do you still remember our original goal?!"

A player with the ID Demolition Office Director raised his arms and shouted, his voice spreading across the entire battlefield through an amplification treasure!

All players subconsciously raised their heads.

Demolition Office Director took a deep breath and, with all his might, roared that most simple yet greatest slogan that had run through the entire history of the game, first shouted from a dilapidated ancestral hall:

"For—the Old Ancestor's—golden coffin!!"

BOOM—!

!

!

The entire world channel was instantly flooded with these seven words!

[For the Old Ancestor's golden coffin!]

[For the Old Ancestor's golden coffin!]

[For the Old Ancestor's golden coffin!]

It was no longer a joke, nor was it just a goal.

At this moment, it had sublimated into a war cry, a totem, a faith!

They were going to use everything they had to forge the most brilliant, most magnificent, and most unique "golden coffin" in the entire universe for the Old Ancestor—and that was a brand new world!

Ninth Prince Ji Haoyue stared blankly at this group of people.

He watched them laughing, roaring, and slapping each other's shoulders, as if they weren't going to their deaths, but to a grand carnival.

He couldn't understand.

He would never be able to understand.

Just what was the spiritual core of these creatures called "players" forged from?

Outlaw Zhang San slowly closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, only a clear calm remained.

He gently pressed his communicator.

"All units... toward that black sun..."

"Launch our final—charge."