Welcome to Rewind World Game
Chapter 590 - 587: "Mo Yan, Do You Want to Change All of This?

Chapter 590: Chapter 587: "Mo Yan, Do You Want to Change All of This?

...

In the pristine white hospital room, a gaunt young man carrying a large sword entered, holding some fruit.

His sword had extremely chaotic scratches on it, and the tiny signature of "Su Ming’an" was faintly visible.

He stared at the patient in the bed—the patient had a face almost identical to his, but his eyes held only the emptiness of a desert, devoid of any spirit.

"Brother," Mo Yan sat by the bed, peeling an apple in his hand, "I’ve come to see you."

The patient’s fingers twitched a little, he was Mo Xiao, Mo Yan’s older brother, who had suffered severe spiritual trauma because of the influence of White Sand Paradise in the Sixth World.

"Number Two Brother hasn’t responded to this day, he might have really become a special status holder," Mo Yan said, "I’m reluctant to believe that it’s possible he is gone for good. I prefer to believe... that Number Two Brother is still alive, even if he has sided with the Organizers and became humanity’s traitor. I still... hope he is alive."

His second brother, Mo Wen, disappeared without trace after entering The Great Library in the Seventh World called Pulaya.

The three brothers, one mad, one missing, leaving only Mo Yan who was relatively normal to bear the pressure.

And their family is but a microcosm of the countless human families today, a direct manifestation of the traps of the World Game.

—The crisis of mental pressure, and the temptation of becoming a special status holder.

Mo Yan stared at his brother Mo Xiao lying on the bed, his eyes becoming confused... perhaps mixed with a fear of losing a loved one.

He used to be a warm light in that hellish White Sand Paradise, a forever optimistic and cheerful soul, but now, he feared he couldn’t even illuminate himself.

"...What should we do," Mo Yan murmured to himself: "Living in such a world, in a world completely manipulated by high-dimensional beings, even if we really make it to the end of the year, and win... will we really find a way out? Brother, what about your illness? Will Number Two Brother come back? Our parents weren’t selected for the game, they’re completely powerless, can I alone protect our family?"

Mo Xiao on the bed stared blankly at the ceiling, immobile like a vegetative person, unresponsive to the outside world.

The small knife in Mo Yan’s hand made a soft "scratch scratch" sound, as apple peels fell to the floor like ribbons.

In the hospital’s hanging TV screen, a propaganda film promoting positive emotions and energy played, with barrage comments flying across the screen like fervent slogans.

[I believe in the future! I believe we will definitely meet the overall Points target!!!]

[I’ve already signed up as a volunteer, I want to do something for humanity. I’m very timid and dare not enter the fray, but I don’t want to lie down and "accidentally" die. Humanity must win!]

[I’m quite open-minded, even if we fail, these days will still be the most unforgettable time of my life, I won’t have any regrets even if I’m wiped out.]

[... I have done all the things with my parents that I didn’t have the energy to do before. We went to the virtual vista system to see Mount Hua, climbed Mount Huang, saw the pyramids of foreign lands, traveled the world, and experienced different instance lives... This carefree year is more valuable to me than the decades of stress over daily necessities, blindly working overtime for mortgage and car loans, and tearing my hair out over my children’s school.]

[Living on Zhai Xing is just a repetition of life, working overtime like a dog, groveling for a degree or diploma. Compared to that kind of life, I’m willing to embrace the World Game!!]

[The World Game is pretty good, I don’t think it’s a crisis of our species being wiped out, we’ve been introduced to a new century, a new civilization.]

[High-dimensional beings may not be full of malice towards us, the instances might not be completely under their control. Based on the attitude of high-dimensional beings, there are likely factions "pro-human" or "assisting humans" among them; otherwise, why would we still be alive? That’s because they don’t want to kill us all at once.]

[...]

Mo Yan coldly watched these barrage comments; he clenched his fists, and veins throbbed.

Since the start of the World Game, humanity’s attitude had gone through several shifts.

Initially, people were terrified and ran forward as if whipped, fearing that failing to meet the Points threshold would mean the annihilation of everyone. Later, as san values instances and spiritual traumas emerged, panic worsened, and fear of participating became the mainstream thought. People preferred to place their hope in the strong, making the strong stronger and the weak weaker.

But now...

But now,

... there had begun to appear sentiments such as "welcoming the arrival of the World Game," "accepting the Organizers," and "this is an opportunity for human evolution."

Is this what they call human optimism?

No.

It should be said that no matter the era, there will always be those who think the Invaders are benefactors. In this situation, there is a word to describe them— "traitors."

Mo Yan clenched his teeth, his fists cracking, but he was powerless to change any of it.

The rapid stream of bullet-screen comments flew by, separated from him by an entire screen.

"Mo... Yan."

He heard his brother Mo Xiao’s voice coming from the bed.

"Brother...!" Mo Yan immediately leaned over and took Mo Xiao’s hand.

Mo Xiao’s hand was cold, chillingly so, like a block of frozen frost, as if it had lost all warmth.

"You must... survive," Mo Xiao’s eyes were full of bloodshot veins, like an overflowing red spiderweb: "...survive."

He seemed to have forgotten all other words, mechanically repeating "survive," as if it were his deepest fixation in his mind before he suffered a great spiritual trauma.

Letting his loved ones survive.

"I will... Of course I will survive!" Mo Yan bit his teeth—his brother had become like this, wasn’t it because of the harmful instance in the World Game? How could he possibly grow close to the Organizers?

The others, who haven’t suffered any substantial traumas—they speak so lightly! Accepting ’High Dimensions’, accepting the ’Organizers’, how could they understand the pain of seeing a loved one hurt?

Without sitting in someone else’s chair, without walking in someone else’s shoes, how can one truly consider things from another’s perspective?

"While Big Brother, the Number One Player, was fighting on the front lines, there were still such treacherous turncoats ready to raise the white flag..." Mo Yan gritted his teeth; he recalled a conversation he had earlier.

Someone had advised him before to get closer to his big brother... the Number One Player.

After all, in White Sand Paradise, he had quite a bit of contact with the Number One Player, and it was feasible, based on this relationship, to team up and ride on his coattails. In this way, his family would also receive better treatment—as the saying goes, even a pig can fly if it stands at the wind’s mouth.

...But how could he be so shameless, with his own strength not up to standard, how could he vie for a place on someone else’s team?

[Should I see him as my dearest big brother, or as the unapproachable Number One Player. Is he an entity that provides me hope, or someone who drags me into the mire of public opinion along with him]?

Mo Yan didn’t want to think too deeply about it.

He didn’t want to dwell on what his big brother thought of him, nor did he want to weigh his own significance in others’ hearts. It was enough to meet by chance and part without attachment, just like with Yu Ruohuo, Yang Changxu, Su Ming’an, Qin Ze, and others... Since they were all mere acquaintances, they might as well be left behind with the passage of time.

This sense of disparity had grown ever wider, to the point where it became daunting.

He lifted his head.

—The TV screen on the wall had switched channels, and now it was the live broadcast room of the ’Number One Player.’

The discussion about ’whether to hand over Su Ming’an’ and ’whether ten thousand people should yield to him’ had sparked a new round of debate.

—Those people in the City of Measurement who voluntarily submitted to ’Ta Wei’, and those who now in the Sixth World wanted to submit to ’High Dimensions’.

It’s too similar.

Mo Yan stared intently at the TV screen when suddenly, he heard a voice echo in his mind.

[Player Mo Yan.]

[Do you want to change all this?]

"...?" Mo Yan looked around, but saw no one.

...

The voice emerged again.

[I know you are dissatisfied with the current situation.]

[I can grant you higher access, greater power... you can use this power to construct your vision.]

[——Would you like to become a special identity in the World Game?]

Mo Yan suddenly understood the source of the voice.

——The Organizers!

Had they infiltrated him?

"——Get lost!!!" he yelled, startling the nurses outside the ward.

"Get lost! Get lost! Get lost!!!"

He roared, brandishing the sword in his hand as if chopping at the air.

——"I am human! I am a pure human! Don’t think of penetrating my mind, go find those who are willing to side with you, willing to be your dogs!!"

The angry voice reverberated throughout the ward.

In his mind, the voice disappeared, as if it had never been there, even making one doubt if it was all an illusion.

However, Mo Yan failed to notice that, at the moment he heard the voice, his clear and bright eyes briefly flashed with a tinge of blood red. But after his refusal, that blood red swiftly vanished.

...

"Thank you."

Su Ming’an looked at the steaming two dishes and a soup on the table in front of him, surprised that Xiaomei’s house had such high-tech cooking equipment.

Just now, he witnessed an incredibly sci-fi cooking process. Xiaomei shoved some low-quality vegetables and water into a machine about half the height of a person, and ten minutes later, the finished two dishes and a soup were pushed out on a plate.

...In such a sci-fi world, it seems that even culinary skills are hardly needed anymore.

Wearing an apron, Xiaomei sat down opposite him at the round table. She didn’t dare look directly into Su Ming’an’s face and couldn’t bring herself to sit with her back to him.

She awkwardly sat sideways, almost burying her face in her rice bowl.

But when it came to eating, her behavior was incredibly "wild." She licked her bowl clean in an instant, leaving not a grain of rice or a drop of oil, the inside of the bowl so shiny it looked like it didn’t need washing.

Su Ming’an silently watched her "toughing it out," noticing that Xiaomei had paid a heavy price for the meal she offered him. She must have been starved for a long time, looking at the rice as if it were a treasure.

His heart sank.

... Only someone who has endured persistent hunger could exhibit such sorrow and despair.

Has she been enduring hunger, while persisting in that night-time job?

"No, it’s nothing, don’t mention it, it’s just a meal," Xiaomei said timidly in a mosquito-like voice: "I picked this up from a junkyard, a scrapped cooking robot. I fixed it up a bit."

She seemed to have a natural talent for mechanics.

Su Ming’an noted that in this small broken house, there were many machines that were clearly picked up from somewhere. An automatic dishwasher, a cleaning robot disc, a simulated garment-sewing machine, and some small firearms without ammunition.

However, Xiaomei had no way to sell these, because revealing any wealth could easily lead to being robbed, or even killed.

"Where’s your sister Dong An’an?" Su Ming’an asked.

When they first met, the mute girl Dong An’an was being chased by a robot, her body carrying the Dawn Code.

Dong An’an was a timid mute who only communicated with sign language by day. At night, however, she was the ruthless girl who tried to assassinate him, even recognizing that he was Acto.

"We got separated when the Mechanical Army was chasing us. I have no idea where she is now," Xiaomei said softly.

She hesitated for a moment and then added, "Also, about tonight’s incident..."

Su Ming’an understood.

"I am dealing with the Red Alert incident, and after I return to Central City, I will order punishments for those who have wronged you," Su Ming’an said.

He knew the difficulty of Xiaomei’s position. They had nowhere to seek justice, had long been oppressed, and were accustomed to humiliation and violence.

What surprised him, though, was Xiaomei’s refusal.

"No, no..."

Xiaomei shook her head repeatedly, her clear eyes brimming with tears, her slender shoulders trembling: "——Please, I beg of you, don’t get involved in this. Bullying and such... it’s all very normal, resisting only leads to worse treatment. If that middle-aged man hadn’t died today, he’d probably end up in a detainment center, but if the City Lord pays more attention now, the local gang leader would investigate... and everything would be over!"

She buried her head in her palms, her voice filled with struggle and pain: "The forces in The Fringe where we live are organized, and there’s a gang leader who controls our kind of night-time business. All of us girls are under his control. This kind of stable life, it’s already very good, very good as it is, and I can’t bear any more changes. City Lord, please don’t pay any more attention to this area, the dawn... the dawn has no place for us!

If even this life is ruined, we will be beaten to death if we enter the city. I’d rather live here miserably than be electrocuted in a detention center. If clients beat me, then let them beat me, at least I still have freedom and rights..."

After finishing with a trembling voice, she turned and ran away, rushing into the curtained inner room.

Su Ming’an stared at the spotless empty bowl across the table.

He hadn’t touched his own food.

... It had no salt, the vegetables had gone bad, it was too hard to swallow, he couldn’t eat it.

Yet she ate as if afraid someone would snatch the bowl away from her, clutching it tightly, burying her head in it.

"Xike." Su Ming’an stared at the bowl: "I hate the dawn."

Xike’s image "swooshed" onto the screen, awoken by his voice.

"You are the last person who should hate the dawn," she said: "This is the survival reality of this city, and we cannot cater to everyone’s wishes.

Humanity’s survival in an apocalypse that could extinguish them requires sufficient awareness."