Pretending To Be A Boss
Chapter 942 - 78: A Name That Can't Be Written_2

She was even less significant in Tang Xian's mind than the people he had already forgotten, but Tang Xian understood—he absolutely couldn't forget Qi Yuan.

Six hundred and seventy days had passed, and everywhere he looked, the world resembled an endless, boundless night.

During those muddled four days, Tang Xian seemed to hear the laughter of a baby.

That laughter carried notes of mockery and ridicule.

Tang Xian could no longer summon any courage, because today, he had written down Yan Xiaoling's name.

Santa Claus's gift had been destroyed by his own hands. Before writing down the name, he had been in unbearable pain. But the moment Yan Xiaoling's name became unfamiliar, Tang Xian suddenly felt that many things no longer mattered.

Why should he save this world?

What had it ever given him?

The anguish and confusion gradually faded from his face, replaced by an expression twisted and grim.

Three people still remained in his memory.

Zhong Yao, Li Xiaoyu, Qi Yuan.

Zhong Yao or Li Xiaoyu, those names were ones that Tang Xian absolutely could not write.

But after losing his memory of Yan Xiaoling, Tang Xian seemed to change.

His heart grew indifferent, and all things in this world seemed meaningless.

He smirked playfully, now appearing more intrigued by this challenge against the Lord of Eden.

This land of shifting truths and illusions seemed fascinating once again, rekindling his motivation to explore the ruins.

Unburdened by emotional weight, Tang Xian's powers of observation seemed to sharpen.

Thus, he quickly found the next marker.

Following the sound of the baby's mocking laughter. He didn't care now who was missing from his memory; he only wished to crush the Lord of Eden's skull.

Without a shred of hesitation, Tang Xian wrote down Zhong Yao's name.

He felt something missing in his soul, but what had he lost exactly?

The world was vast, yet no one loved him. Someone like him was hardly worthy of love.

Teardrops spilled from his eyes, inexplicably, while Tang Xian was grinning fiercely—like a demon stripped of all emotion. Yet the tears refused to stop.

He froze for several seconds, then shook his head and walked toward a lake nearby. Slowly, he washed himself clean, shaved off his beard, and carefully trimmed his hair.

He wiped away the dust on his face, along with many unnecessary emotions.

Tang Xian now looked like a calculating nobleman.

The look in his eyes was reminiscent of the scions of order from days past.

His steps grew faster, as did his sense of liberation. Without the shackles known as "humanity," his thoughts instead grew more expansive than ever.

Emotions can make people understand fear, and equally make them grasp courage.

But this world also contains many lunatics who have never known fear. Without fear, there is naturally no need for courage.

Now Tang Xian had become such a person. The severe lack of emotion in him rendered the Lord of Eden's psychological torment powerless against him.

Tang Xian turned back and stared at the markers inscribed with unfamiliar names, puzzled. How had he walked so slowly, lingering for so long at a single marker? Why had it been?

Was his former self really that weak?

It was nothing more than another labyrinth anyway. If he were his current self, he wouldn't have taken so much time to reach this point.

Those meaningless names—what was there to hesitate over?

Tang Xian laughed recklessly, believing himself now invincible.

Never had there been a moment when his heart brimmed so completely with desires for destruction and devastation.

In the heart of the ruins, Tang Xian finally arrived at the ultimate marker.

The baby's cries no longer carried tones of mockery; instead, they sounded curious, even tinged with an ounce of fear.

This was close. Tang Xian was certain—if he finished writing on this marker, he might find that damned Lord of Eden.

He must twist off the baby's head, ensuring it could laugh repulsively no more.

Tang Xian thought this as his hand stopped in its tracks.

"Of course, I should write down Li Xiaoyu, that crazy woman."

Qi Yuan was also one of the targets he was determined to obliterate. But Tang Xian didn't want to forget Qi Yuan, for if no one in the world loved him, then surely someone should want to kill him?

Otherwise, wouldn't the world be unbearably lonely?

But when Tang Xian's hand touched the marker, he found himself entirely unable to write.

"Damn it! Damn it!"

Tang Xian furiously picked up a stone and smashed it repeatedly against his hand, as if punishing a coward.

The memories with Li Xiaoyu weren't many—time spent together with her was even shorter than with the people Tang Xian had already forgotten.

He thought he had no weaknesses left and was merely waiting for the chessboard's conclusion to reap his reward.

Yet his hand stubbornly refused to move, as if the name he was about to write carried a terrible curse.

Tang Xian's expression fractured.

He looked strikingly similar to a girl drowned many years ago.

Tears, laughter, rage, bewilderment—the discordant emotions splayed out across his face.

He had thought he'd never experience the sensation of fear again, but in the depths of his mind, an uneasy and panic-stricken voice warned him relentlessly—telling him that this name absolutely must not be written!

Otherwise, it would lead to eternal damnation!

Tang Xian was furious and ashamed of his own cowardice, yet he simply couldn't muster the courage to write that name.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it all!"

He roared as he collapsed to the ground, pounding the earth with both fists. Accompanied by the flood of memories, his expression twisted into unrestrained madness.