Welcome to Rewind World Game
Chapter 222 - 219: "My Beloved Doctor

Chapter 222: Chapter 219: "My Beloved Doctor

"—Brother, Brother? Wake up, Brother, don’t sleep anymore—"

In the midst of chaos, he heard someone’s clamorous shouting.

It felt as if a heavy iron weight pressed against his chest, making even his breathing somewhat labored.

He wanted to lift his hand, to move, but his body seemed to have completely disconnected from his brain, and a cloud-like heaviness of darkness bore down in front of his eyes, his eyelids heavy as if laden with metal and stone.

He tried to open his mouth, to breathe in, and when the air rushed into his lungs, scraping through his throat, it seemed to carry with it a fragmented, cottony touch.

"Cough, cough, cough..."

He coughed himself awake.

Control over his body returned bit by bit, and as he cast his gaze from moist eyes, he saw a glaring, white-hot light.

Next to him, a young man stood by the bed, his face full of worry.

The young man reached out with both hands, removing a white bundle from his chest.

"Brother, this white cat, I have no idea where it came from... It’s so fat and heavy, every time I move it away, it jumps right back up..." Mo Yan tossed the cat onto the floor like a stone, the heavy thud echoing dully. Then the white shape swiftly leaped back up, only to be smacked away by Su Ming’an with a hand as if he were playing tennis.

"Bang!"

The white bundle slammed heavily against the wall, causing the plaster to fall off and make a rustling noise.

Su Ming’an sat up, his eyes catching the orange figure in the upper left corner, a stark 50.

So low.

No wonder, he felt like he couldn’t see things properly.

He lifted his eyelids and looked at the system time; it was 5:30 in the afternoon.

...He had slept for such a long time.

"What happened?" he asked.

"It was just this morning... Brother, that weird man looked at you, and you fainted, but he didn’t use an electric shock on you, instead letting a girl bring you back... We recited the development history of White Sand Paradise afterward, and then we were forced to eat lunch; you’ve been lying down ever since," Mo Yan said. "Now it’s free time, the other players are searching for clues, and I came to check if you had wakened."

"A girl." Su Ming’an zeroed in on the key point in Mo Yan’s words: "Is she a player?"

"She’s probably not a player?" Mo Yan thought for a moment before answering: "She’s number twenty-nine, I don’t know if she’s a player or an NPC, but she doesn’t seem like a player, she’s too calm."

"Do you know her name?"

Mo Yan thought for a while and fished out a name from his memory:

"The strange man called her ’Dong Xue’."

...Dong Xue.

Su Ming’an was stunned, then he heard the system prompt.

[You’ve obtained a key clue·Dong Xue]

[Dong Xue: "I’ve encountered her, the one who is still alive."

"No matter when, she’s always so young."

"—Like I used to be."]

...

Su Ming’an stared at the line of clues, suddenly feeling a bit dazed.

The text in front of him seemed to twist together, intertwining into a shattered vortex.

He stared at the words spinning before his eyes, reaching out to touch them.

With fingers curled into a claw, he stretched out his hand, trying to grasp the line of clues as if by doing so, he could completely unravel them.

"—Brother?"

Mo Yan’s words interrupted his action.

He abruptly withdrew his hand, looking at Mo Yan.

...Mo Yan must have realized there was something wrong with him a long time ago.

Whether it was the edited number one, the all too obvious Sword of Yarman, the white cat, all these signs put together, he didn’t believe Mo Yan couldn’t see the suspiciousness in him.

His skills and those of the Number One Player were identical, even that white cat had appeared in the live broadcast room.

Perhaps Mo Yan had speculated in his heart, knowing that he was not just any top-ranked player, but everything that had happened before made Mo Yan unable to accept this overly familiar, overly unpretentious "Number One Player."

So, Mo Yan would rather believe that he was just a very convincing cosplayer.

——So, should he just kill Mo Yan?

Su Ming’an didn’t quite understand how his thoughts could jump so quickly.

It was as if one second he was thinking about clues, and the next second he suddenly wanted to commit murder.

He simply felt that this player, who seemed to see through his identity but also seemed not to, was an unstable factor, and killing him might have some meaning...

Killing people was now very simple for him. Especially in a world where his own strength towered above all others, and there were no legal or moral restrictions.

A sudden outstretched hand with erasing intent, or a sudden sword draw, a sudden infusion of all Mana Points to unleash Spatial Vibration... Any method would allow him to easily kill the person in front of him without any effort.

He could even act during the day, send out a Cloning, and hunt down all the other players, even if it was two against eighteen. As long as the opponents didn’t have any especially bugged skills, he didn’t feel any pressure.

Even if he died, he could rewind time, and then, next time, after eliminating all unexpected factors, kill everyone once again, removing any unstable elements...

He stretched out his hand and looked at his fingers.

Upon his fingers, a black light flickered like dancing fire.

"——Big brother, big brother?"

Mo Yan couldn’t help but speak out anxiously. He felt that the eyes of his big brother, who had just woken up, had suddenly become a bit abnormal.

...It was a completely different look from before.

Distant, empty, as if looking down on everything, without a trace of gentleness within.

When Mo Yan met his big brother’s gaze, he felt as if a huge hand had clutched his heart in an instant, the sense of crisis around him intensifying, as if he were facing a flood or a fierce beast, like an animal encountering a natural predator.

...It was the sensation that he might be killed in an instant if he wasn’t careful.

Mo Yan had never thought that his amiable big brother would ever give him such a look.

"Big brother, is there something wrong with your mind? Big brother, please, be normal! Come on, big brother, follow my lead and breathe deeply, breathe... breathe..."

Mo Yan took a few steps back and resorted to the relaxation trick he had learnt before being pulled into the game.

He saw his big brother slowly close his eyes.

After three seconds, his big brother opened his eyes again.

Then, he felt that the sense of crisis that could engulf him at any moment was slowly fading away.

"Big brother." Mo Yan wiped the sweat from his brow: "Big brother, you’re okay now, right..."

Su Ming’an was silent for a moment, then blinked: "I’m fine."

He got up from the bed and stood up: "For the next few days, stay away from me."

"Big brother, you can’t abandon me like this, if I encounter any danger in the coming days..."

Su Ming’an glanced at him, then looked away again.

"I’m more dangerous," he said.

"..."

Mo Yan was also silent.

After what had just happened, he couldn’t assure himself that his dear big brother wouldn’t suddenly turn on him one day.

In this instance, the mental state of players seemed to be very unstable. A teammate discussing clues one moment could succumb to madness the next.

Mo Yan saw his big brother standing by the bed, looking down silently.

The blue and white patient gown on his body made the long scars on his pale skin look particularly ferocious and glaring.

"Get some more sleep, big brother," Mo Yan said. "I don’t know what that weirdo did to you, but ever since then, you haven’t been quite right... They say sleep is the best way to recover one’s spirit, you really need to ensure you get enough sleep at night."

"Maybe in the game, putting on a flower crown could also be effective in restoring mental state..."

Mo Yan heard his big brother murmuring to himself.

He was taken aback for a moment, then couldn’t help but laugh: "Big brother, you’re really funny, still able to joke at a time like this..."

He was laughing when his gaze suddenly met Su Ming’an’s deadpan eyes.

As if suddenly pulled into the darkness within, upon seeing the other’s eyes, Mo Yan felt a surge of palpitations.

Jet-black silk threads slowly invaded his field of vision.

The twisting, suddenly enlarged dark corners compressed his range of view.

Mo Yan stood frozen, his breathing growing shallow.

Cold air rushed violently through his windpipe and poured into his lungs, he felt as if he had swallowed gold and it sank to his stomach, his calves went weak, as if something was dragging him downwards.

He felt like a wooden stake nailed to the spot, while that over-looking, indifferent gaze was like a hammer, driving him further and further into the floor with every hit.

...It seemed Big Brother wasn’t joking around.

Mo Yan’s eyeballs were fixed within their sockets, he tried to shift his gaze but couldn’t move them at all; the whites of his eyes were like air compressed and squeezed, leaving no room for movement.

And then, in the next moment, Su Ming’an turned his head away.

The converging gazes parted.

It was as if the hand gripping his heart had suddenly let go, Mo Yan took a half step back, almost losing his balance.

He leaned on the wall, gasping for air, his body trembling like a sieve, his eyes still showing panic.

In the upper left corner of his vision, the orange light boiled like lava, like a volcano on the verge of erupting.

Cold sweat slid down Mo Yan’s cheeks as he gasped for breath, his fingers bending unconsciously.

...It was just a gaze.

A simple gaze, a gaze shared with Big Brother, who was also a player.

His sanity value had dropped by five points in an instant.

His footsteps moved out bit by bit, the floorboards creaking under him.

His hand scraped against the wall, the pristine wall powder flaking off.

Finally, his steps stopped at the doorway.

"...Big Brother, I’ll be going now," Mo Yan said with some difficulty.

"Go ahead," Su Ming’an didn’t lift his head.

The creaking sound of the floorboards continued, and with a "bang" as the wooden door shut, the sound of footsteps in the corridor gradually faded away.

Su Ming’an closed his eyes, took a deep breath, trying to stabilize his wavering vision.

He stretched out his hand, pulling open the clue bar.

At the top, the clear words [27 · Student File · Locker] were visible.

He expanded the interface, and rows of text jumped out.

[27th Student · Locker]

[Charge: Poverty.]

As a "Doctor," he must judge the students as good or bad, which would affect his actions during the night.

This Locker must be one of the players; he would obtain this person’s real file from Zhai Xing.

He steadied his nerves and continued reading.

...

[Locker from Gran Country, 48 years old, poor family background, criminal record, became homeless after release from prison, bumming around in Central Park.]

[He survived by picking up trash and begging, and after receiving the kindness of a wealthy woman, he obtained his own dwelling.]

[The dwelling was an abandoned workshop with poor conditions, lacking water and electricity.]

[The wealthy woman soon left the city, and Locker was still unable to find work; after being chased away by security, he relapsed into homelessness.]

[Locker always kept to himself, his body odorous from not bathing, no one came near him, no one cared for him, no one supported him.]

[Wrapped in a picked-up down comforter, riddled with hunger and cold, he slept under a bridge.]

[The bridge was quiet, no other homeless contested his dwelling, and no security batons disturbed his sleep.]

[He slept soundly.]

[A wobbly truck passed through the bridge, the truck’s headlights very bright, blindingly bright.]

[Locker had an experience.]

[Locker was once directly struck by a bright flashlight beam in his sleep, momentarily blinding him when he opened his eyes. He didn’t want to encounter such a thing again.]

["What is this, it’s too bright."]

[He wrapped himself unwillingly in a down quilt, murmuring and with his eyes closed, he turned over, not wanting his sleep to be disturbed.]

[The wheels of a truck rolled over his body, and he woke up from his sleep in shock.]

[Blood exploded like fireworks, sinking into the mud around him.]

[The warm down quilt also sunk into the mud at this time.]

[He opened his eyes, looking at the headlight that nearly blinded him, as if he were looking at the sunlight during the day.]

[The sunlight was bright and warm.]

[The headlight was bright but only made him feel the cold.]

[His consciousness was slipping away, and the pain was like surging waves.]

["He was poor and had committed crimes; he was a vagrant."]

["And the greatest sin of his life was this poverty."]

["He was born in poverty, and he died in poverty."]

[Locker was about to close his eyes.]

[But the World Game started at that moment.]

[Locker, who was dying and almost turned into a puddle of mud, had his whole body repaired at this moment.]

[The rabbit, floating in the sky above billions of people, hot like molten lava, was changing his destiny at this time.]

[It said, "Congratulations to you all."]

[Locker placed his hand on his chest and made the sign of the cross.]

[He said, "Congratulations to me."]

[He looked up, and the heavens were brightening.]

[The blazing sun, like flames, was casting sunlight upon the city.]

["He was poor and had committed crimes; he was a vagrant."]

["When he was on the brink of death, he opened his eyes and saw the brilliance gifted to him by another world."]

["He must escape from death before the game ends; he absolutely did not want his life taken away by that truck."]

["He didn’t want to remain a lowly vagrant; he wanted to obtain his own dignity."]

["Such a person, such a Locker..."]

The words lingered in front of his eyes for a moment, and then the blood-red sentences appeared one by one.

["—Doctor, my dear doctor."]

["Do you think, in White Sand Paradise, a child like this."]

["Is judged to be, a being that can be saved?"]

["Or... beyond healing, destined to become abandoned social trash?"]

["What this child has, is it an unforgivable sin."]

["...Or is it a past that has shaped such a person and cannot be buried?"]

["Doctor, my dear doctor."]

["The White Sand doctor who can heal a soul and also execute sinners, fair, kind, and lifesaving."]

The writing grew increasingly vivid red, bobbing and bursting forth.

Like flowing blood.

...

["Please make your judgment tonight."]