114: Chapter 114 The First and the Last Dream

In the seventh month of the new era, when the first batch of "Dragon Tooth Rice" grown by the local residents was served on the Guardian Council's table, no one cheered.

The grains were crystal clear, containing the purest spiritual energy of heaven and earth after purification; mortals eating it could prolong their lives, while cultivators eating it could stabilize their foundations.

This was the taste of peace, the proof of a new life.

However, Outlaw Zhang San just silently picked at the rice in his bowl, it tasting like wax.

Infrastructure Maniac stuffed two large mouthfuls into his mouth, then slammed his bowl and chopsticks heavily onto the table, making a sharp, jarring noise.

"Boring," he irritably spat out two words, like a fierce beast locked in a cage. "Every day it's meetings, approvals, allocating resources, repairing formations... I feel like I'm not cultivating immortality, I'm being a damn accountant!"

Skillful Hands Mending's eyes reddened again as she whispered, "Stop it. Being able to eat rice is already very good."

Her voice was very soft, yet it made the air in the entire temporary canteen freeze.

Yes, it was very good.

Much better than those names that would forever remain silent on the gray list.

But this "good" was also like a soft thorn, pricking the hearts of every surviving first-generation player.

They had conquered the entire world, only to find themselves the loneliest jailers on these ruins, day after day mending the cage named "Civilization."

Where were those absurd, hot-blooded goals from before?

Tearing down the rival's ancestral hall, dancing on the Demon Venerable's grave, getting a golden coffin for the Old Ancestor...

Those reasons that made them grind through the night and laugh wildly while facing death on the battlefield sounded like myths from the previous era now.

"Old Ancestor..." Infrastructure Maniac suddenly looked up, his gaze piercing through the canteen's simple walls toward the giant statue of the Old Ancestor under construction in the city center. "Back then, we seemed to have promised him one thing."

Everyone stopped what they were doing.

"Promised what?" a young second-generation player asked curiously.

Infrastructure Maniac broke into a smile that looked worse than crying, his voice hoarse as he said, "We promised to get him... the most badass, the shiniest, the most luxurious... golden coffin in the whole world."

This initial joke, which had almost spanned their entire "gaming" career, was like a long-forgotten bomb, detonating with a bang in the deathly silent air.

The young players looked at each other, not understanding where the punchline of this joke was.

But those first-generation players, those "living legends," slowly put down their bowls and chopsticks one by one.

On Immovable as a Mountain's perpetually stone-like face, a muscle twitched imperceptibly.

Skillful Hands Mending covered her mouth, her shoulders trembling violently as tears burst forth—this time, however, it wasn't because of sadness.

Outlaw Zhang San, the council's brain who was always calm and always calculating the optimal solution, closed his eyes at this moment, a tiny, almost invisible curve appearing at the corner of his mouth.

It was a smile of relief, tinged with endless exhaustion.

"I agree."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was like a thunderclap, splitting the gloom in everyone's hearts.

"I propose to initiate the 'World Guardian Council's' first and last collective project—the 'Milestone Project'."

"Project content," he opened his eyes, his gaze sweeping over every first-generation player present. In those eyes that saw through rules, a flame burned for the first time—not for survival, not for responsibility, but only for remembrance. "To forge a golden coffin for the Old Ancestor."

...

The Council's order was issued with the highest priority.

The entire Newborn City, and even the entire Survivor Alliance, fell into a brief state of confusion over this seemingly absurd decision.

But when those "living legends" personally opened the long-sealed wartime warehouses and transported top-tier materials symbolizing illustrious military achievements to the giant workshop in the city center like a flowing stream, everyone understood.

This wasn't a mission, but a ceremony.

A grandest farewell held by the survivors, for themselves and for all those who had passed away.

The core furnace of the workshop was personally designed by "Infrastructure Maniac."

It no longer used ordinary fire but instead drew upon the spiritual energy of the earth's veins, using "Immovable as a Mountain's" lifeblood essence as a catalyst to ignite the purest "Guardian's Flame."

The first item thrown into the furnace wasn't some rare divine metal, but a broken, rust-stained door plank.

That was the original totem of the "Pot Lid Army." Back then, they carried such things and used their flesh and blood to block the first wave of spell volleys from the immortal cultivators for the players behind them.

The flames rose, and the door plank dissolved inch by inch within them. All impurities were burned away, finally leaving only a tiny speck of golden, pure substance smaller than a grain of rice—the most primitive "Will Crystal" of countless players protecting their home.

Next were the broken Flying Sword fragments used by the suicide squad members of the "Divine Wind Battalion."

Armor fragments left on the battlefield by the PVP maniacs of the "Purifiers" alliance.

The remains of the first-generation, ugly but meritorious war golems created by "Liver Emperor V87" and his engineers.

There was even the [Black Wind Stockade Leader's Eyepatch] that the female player "Appearance is Justice" cherished like a treasure but which ultimately shattered during a charge...

Every item carried a memory, representing a person or a group of people.

In the "Guardian's Flame," they were stripped of their material shells and restored to their most primal, shining "Spiritual Imprints."

Outlaw Zhang San stood quietly by the furnace. He didn't help; he just observed.

His brow furrowed tightly again.

That familiar, cold "sense of disharmony" was clearer than ever before.

When those "Spiritual Imprints," containing burning emotions and chaotic wills, merged in the furnace, the surrounding laws did not present the expected violent and disorderly state.

On the contrary, they became... too perfect.

Every flicker of the flames followed the most precise conservation of energy;

Every fusion of an imprint formed a cold and perfect geometric symmetry.

The scene was so magnificent it made one's heart skip a beat, yet it possessed no vitality.

Like a painter with superb technique but no soul, who painted a picture that perfectly conformed to the golden ratio but failed to evoke any emotional resonance.

"Fairy Yunshang..." Zhang San silently repeated this name in his heart.

He was almost certain that the woman's "Rule Embers" had already seeped into the bottom layer of the new world's laws like a virus.

It couldn't be deleted; it could only be "formatted."

And now, it was instinctively and greedily absorbing the massive spiritual power generated by this "collective nostalgia," attempting to use the players' burning emotions to fill the void of its cold order, weaving itself deeper and more firmly.

It was learning, evolving.

Zhang San nonchalantly reached out his hand, and a tiny, imperceptible thread of his own world authority quietly probed into the furnace.

He didn't try to combat that "stiffness." Instead, like a clever programmer, he quietly planted his own "backdoor program" next to the virus code—a tiny imprint with "chaos" and "randomness" as its core logic.

This couldn't eradicate the virus, but at the very least, it could cause this "perfect" machine to have a small "stutter" when he needed it to.

After doing all this, he looked up toward the other side of the workshop.

The prototype of the casket had already been cast.

Its entire body presented a warm gold, as if sunlight were flowing through it.

Skillful Hands Mending was kneeling beside the casket, her eyes red, holding an engraving knife condensed from her own mental power, performing the most delicate carving.

Her technique had long surpassed that of ordinary craftsmen.

With every stroke, what she carved were not lines, but segments of vivid memories.

She carved "I Love Exploiting Loopholes'" wretched yet proud smile when he first discovered that offering incense could add a buff.

She carved "War God Number One's" dazed and shocked expression after his first life-bargaining resurrection.

She carved the scene of the "Master of the Trap School" outside the Black Wind Stockade, commanding countless players to dig pits and plant mines.

She even carved the final action of "The Romance of the Science Guy" pushing up his virtual glasses on the bridge of his nose before calmly sacrificing himself in the final battle.

Under her knife, the faces of countless victims emerged one by one—not like the cold posthumous portraits on tombstones, but their most vivid and lively moments.

Smiling, roaring, being goofy, contemplating...

It was as if they hadn't passed away but were merely sealed upon this Golden Casket, eternally coexisting with their comrades and the world they protected.

Finally, on the tenth day, when the last stroke fell, the entire casket emitted a melodious hum that seemed to come from the depths of the soul.

It was finished.

It lay there quietly, magnificent and brilliant to the extreme, yet without a hint of vulgarity.

It was like an epic written in gold, a long scroll painted with memories.

Every inch of the coffin's body flowed with stories of time, and with every breath, the resonance of countless souls could be felt.

No grand ceremony was held.

The surviving first-generation players silently and solemnly lifted it together, walking out of the workshop step by step.

The streets were lined with Newborn City residents who had come of their own accord.

Among them were surviving local cultivators, rescued mortals, and even more young boys and girls like "Little Stone" who had gained "player" status in the new era.

They didn't understand the significance of this coffin, but they could feel the heavy and glorious aura emanating from it.

They saw "Immovable as a Mountain," the protector as steady as a mountain range, with tears in his fierce eyes as he carried the casket forward.

They saw "Infrastructure Maniac," the man who was always irritable, being as cautious as if he were holding a newborn baby.

They saw the heroes who lived in legends showing their most fragile and real side in front of everyone for the first time.

The procession moved very slowly, as if walking through an entire era.

Finally, they arrived at the central square of Newborn City.

The statue of the Old Ancestor, symbolizing the new Heavenly Dao, had been completed.

Its face was blurred, without sorrow or joy, simply standing quietly between heaven and earth, overlooking the world it protected.

The Golden Casket was gently placed beneath the statue.

Inside, it was empty.

It was not a tomb, not a final resting place.

It was a monument.

Commemorating all of them, starting from a dilapidated ancestral hall and a rickety broken coffin, for an absurd joke, and finally moving toward a great expedition to save the world and crowdfund creation.

That was the initial dream and the final destination of these "Heavenly Chosen Filial Grandsons" from another world.

The afterglow of the setting sun coated the entire Newborn City in a layer of warm gold.

The light spilled onto the Golden Casket, reflecting a brilliant glow.

Immovable as a Mountain slowly reached out, gently stroking the smiling face of "War God Number One" carved onto the casket by Skillful Hands Mending.

Beneath the cold metallic touch, he seemed to feel the warmth of his comrade's palm.

At the corner of his eye, a hot tear quietly fell, dripping onto the casket and splashing into an almost invisible water flower.

"Get a golden coffin for the Old Ancestor..."

In a voice only he could hear, he softly murmured that slogan they had shouted countless times.

"We did it."