97: Chapter 97 The Final Bet

A dead end.

When those two words were uttered by Outlaw Zhang San, it felt as if the last trace of oxygen named "hope" had been drained from this void.

In the alliance channel, there was dead silence.

The exhilaration of defeating the Furnace Guardian and reaching the destination that had stirred them moments ago was now completely extinguished by the bone-chilling reality.

The waterfall of data scrolling frantically before The Romance of the Science Guy had stopped, leaving only a few scarlet, shocking entries flickering repeatedly: [Paradox], [Resource Depletion], [Conditions Not Met].

For the first time, he felt how pale and powerless the logic and data he believed in were when faced with true "rules."

Ninth Prince stumbled, reaching out to touch the massive, motionless heart, only to let his hand drop weakly halfway.

The last trace of color faded from his face, replaced by a deep, bone-chilling grayness.

They had paid so much, sacrificed so much, and even the guardians of the previous era had given their lives to open a path for them, only to arrive at a destination that declared all their efforts futile.

This was more despairing than dying in battle.

"Fairy Yunshang... she must know." Ninth Prince's voice was hoarse and dry, tinged with self-deprecating madness. "She knew this was a dead end, which is why she lured us here... She wanted us to be completely devoured by the Evil God in endless despair after seeing the truth..."

Pawns.

Pawns to be discarded after use.

This realization was more heart-piercing than any blade.

Right in the midst of this frozen silence, an ancient, weary thought, which seemed capable of piercing through eternal time, slowly resonated in the depths of everyone's soul.

It was the Old Ancestor.

"A dead end... is also a gateway to life."

The voice had no ripples, yet like a drop of water falling into a hot wok of oil, it instantly exploded in the heart-lake of everyone present.

Everyone looked up abruptly, staring at the dim phantom that had always been floating at the very front of the team.

"Old Ancestor?" Outlaw Zhang San frowned, keenly sensing something unusual.

The Old Ancestor's phantom did not respond, but slowly raised a hand made of light, almost transparent.

Immediately after, on every player's retina, their system interface was forcibly opened by an irresistible force.

It was not the familiar attribute, quest, or inventory interface.

It was a brand new interface, with a background as dark as eternal night, flowing with blood-red runes.

In the very center of the interface, there were only four ancient, twisted characters that contained some kind of ultimate power.

[All Things Return to One]

"Wh-what is this?" a player exclaimed.

No one answered.

Because in the next second, rows of smaller annotations, exuding an ominous aura, slowly appeared beneath those four characters.

[Sacrificial Item: Cultivation Rank. Can convert one's own cultivation and insights into the purest primordial energy to be injected into the creation furnace.]

[Sacrificial Item: Magic Treasures and Spiritual Objects. Can deconstruct all equipment, items, and materials into the most basic law fragments to replenish the creation furnace.]

[Sacrificial Item: Bloodline Inheritance. Can trace one's bloodline source and innate divine abilities back to their origins, returning them to the world's source.]

Seeing this, the native cultivators, led by Ninth Prince, looked extremely grim.

This was almost equivalent to crippling one's own cultivation and squandering all one's wealth.

But this was not the end.

New text continued to appear.

[Sacrificial Item: Emotions and Memories. Can distill one's love, hate, sorrow, joy, and all past experiences into spiritual energy to ignite the furnace fire.]

[Sacrificial Item: Life Essence and Traces of Existence. Can completely erase one's "existence" from the river of time, becoming the ultimate cornerstone for restarting the world.]

When the last line appeared, the entire space fell silent, not even a whisper of wind remained.

If the previous conditions for restarting were despair, what was now displayed before them was a kind of bone-deep, chilling... madness!

This was not saving the world.

This was "deleting" oneself from this world in a way more thorough than the Evil God!

"Demonic path! This is a forbidden blood sacrifice method! It is an evil art that heaven cannot tolerate!" An elder from a holy land screamed, his Dao heart nearly collapsing.

He pointed at the Old Ancestor's phantom, trembling all over, "You... what difference is there between you and that Evil God?!"

His words voiced the thoughts of all the native cultivators.

They could die in battle, they could have their souls scattered, but they could not accept using their seven emotions and six desires, their past memories, or even their very existence as firewood!

That exceeded their understanding of "sacrifice"; it was the ultimate blasphemy against the word "living being"!

Ninth Prince looked deathly pale. He stared at the Old Ancestor, his eyes filled with sorrow and determination: "If the price of saving the world is to turn us all into walking corpses without pasts, without sorrow or joy, or even to make us disappear completely... then I don't want such salvation!"

He would rather perish with this world than survive in such a manner.

However, in stark contrast to the intense reaction of the native cultivators, there was an eerie silence in the players' camp.

Their breathing was just as rapid, and their eyes were just as shocked, but beneath that shock, a completely different emotion was hidden.

The Romance of the Science Guy stared fixedly at the interface, the data stream in his eyes surging at an unprecedented speed.

He didn't look at the words describing emotions and existence, but like a madman, he was frantically calculating something.

"Conversion rate... energy conversion rate..." he muttered to himself. "Sacrificing a divine artifact yields 10,000 units of energy. Sacrificing the cultivation of a Foundation Establishment cultivator yields 30,000 units. But... sacrificing a 'heart-wrenching love'... the energy output is 500,000 units?!"

His voice wasn't loud, but it reached the ears of every player clearly.

"Is this f*cking... a pay-to-win system?" Immovable as a Mountain widened his eyes, blurting out in disbelief.

One remark awakened the dreamers.

In that instant, the eyes of all the players changed.

Fear, shock, ominousness... these emotions still existed, but something engraved in their DNA, known as "game logic," began to rise frantically.

Outlaw Zhang San slowly closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, the confusion and shock were gone, replaced by a nearly cruel calmness.

He turned around, ignoring the indignant native cultivators, and faced all the players directly.

"Do you all understand now?" His voice was not loud, but it was enough for everyone to hear clearly.

"The Old Ancestor was not wrong. This is not a dead end; it is a gateway to life."

"It's just that the ticket for this gate is ridiculously expensive."

He paused, a self-deprecating arc curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Demonic path? Evil art? Don't f*cking make me laugh."

"In the games you've played, have you seen few instances of sacrificing equipment, pets, or even teammates to gain attributes? This is just expanding the sacrifice list to the entire game world."

"This f*cking thing is the last, and only, pay-to-win channel opened by this trash game to save the world!"

His voice suddenly rose, like a heavy hammer, slamming hard into every player's heart.

"Yes! It's pay-to-win! Except this time, what we're paying isn't money, it's our lives! It's every trace we've left in this world!"

Skillful Hands Mending's face turned ghastly white. Her lips trembled as she retorted: "Zhang San... this is not the same! How can this be the same! Memories, emotions... these are also part of us! If even these are gone, what difference is there between us and formatted NPCs?"

Her words represented the thoughts of a large portion of the players.

They could die, they could respawn, but they could not accept being "priced" in such a way.

"There is a difference." Zhang San looked at her, his gaze sharp as a knife. "The difference is that formatted NPCs have no choice. But we do."

"We can choose to stand here, holding onto our so-called 'humanity' and 'memories,' only to be chewed up by the Evil God and treated as a joke by Fairy Yunshang."

"Or," his gaze swept across everyone, his voice becoming deep and powerful, "we can use these things as our final bullets, firing them one by one with our own hands!"

"Shoot through this goddamn chessboard! Tell that b*tch hiding behind the scenes that pawns can flip the table too!"

His words were vulgar, yet filled with power.

He did not avoid the cruelty of this choice; instead, he laid it bare before everyone.

This was not a philosophical question about "right or wrong."

This was a multiple-choice question about "life or death."

Whether to die with dignity or burn everything to survive.

Ninth Prince fell silent.

He understood Zhang San's words.

He just... couldn't accept them.

But he also couldn't refute them.

Because what the Old Ancestor provided was indeed the only method that could fill the conditions of those two bottomless pits.

Outlaw Zhang San took one last look at the dead, massive Heart of the World, and then at the blood-red [All Things Return to One] interface.

He spoke slowly, his voice not loud, but it formed the final resolution in the alliance channel.

"I choose... to flip the table."

"Now, tally all sacrificable resources and calculate the energy deficit."

"Prepare... to pay to win."