Chapter 20 : Winner Takes All, Loser Turns to Dust

After Ming Po deleted all the records and restored everything in the room to the state it had been in before he entered, he stood up once more.

The next instant, the world around him ignited with deep crimson flames.

He ended his modification to the history of “one hour ago.”

The world around him twisted and expanded, then returned to normal in the blink of an eye.

He was still standing beside the road from earlier, only this time, he did not see Ai Shiping.

Likewise, he did not see that “interdimensional dump truck” again.

If no one had been killed by impact, then naturally there was no crowd gathered around either. Ming Po silently tucked both hands into his pockets and walked toward home.

Who was the person who killed Ai Shiping?

Ming Po thought about it.

The people to whom he had revealed that name, and who knew of Ai Shiping’s existence, included at least “Fox” and “Rabbit.”

Although the appearance and disappearance of that dump truck were far too strange, and did not seem like a method a newcomer would use… When history was smeared over, there had also been a trace of gold that only he could see.

Was that False Gold of Days? Or was it… a higher-level “True Gold”?

“I truly hope… I can meet them again.”

Ming Po murmured softly, narrowing his eyes.

He was also temporarily in no mood to confirm what was going on with the neighbor’s child.

As for the friend Ai Shiping had recommended to him, he had no time to go make small talk with the other party either.

He truly had no time. These matters would probably have to wait until the next time he had spare chips.

Before Ming Po had walked very far, the world around him once again ignited with flames.

The colored world was burned clean of color by that mass of fire, turning once more into a dark, quiet, gray-white world.

His manifestation time had ended.

But it was more or less enough.

What needed to be confirmed had been confirmed. What needed to be changed had been changed

As if performing magic, Ming Po took out the final chip he had left.

A dark golden [False Gold of Days].

He tossed it into the sky, then casually caught it. After repeating this several times, he waved his hand and seized it in his palm.

He returned straight home.

The good mood he had originally felt upon coming home was now completely gone.

Ming Po walked into the bright living room, then returned to his own room to check it again. On the wall of his bedroom, the familiar posters of Ouroboros Ring were still there, and the figurines were still in the cabinet.

But when he entered Ai Shiping’s room again, he found that this guy, who was currently playing games, was playing something Ming Po was completely unfamiliar with and had never seen before.

Ming Po stood behind him and watched for a while, then suddenly reached out and patted his shoulder.

His hand passed through Ai Shiping’s shoulder.

“Holy shit, someone seems to be behind me!”

All he heard was that rebellious son yelling noisily in the voice channel without even turning his head. “Quick, quick, quick! Get on the bridge, get on the bridge!”

He watched as Ai Shiping set up a designated marksman rifle, looking like a child.

Although Ming Po did not understand the game, Ai Shiping seemed to be having quite a lot of fun.

That was fine too.

Ming Po silently sighed and floated back to the living room.

This living room was completely different from the “living world” gray-white of Ai Shiping’s room. It shone with bright and warm light. But that sense of alienation made Ming Po feel a loneliness unlike anything before.

Suddenly… he kind of wanted to drink.

In any case, he was no longer a living person. Alcohol allergy probably no longer existed either, right?

“I wonder whether a ghost can drink alcohol.”

Ming Po smiled self-mockingly and took the bottle of alcohol with his title written on it from the wine cabinet, along with a chilled glass.

He did not prepare ice. He directly poured a little less than half a glass from the bottle as a test.

He carefully leaned in to smell it, then lightly took a sip. Immediately, he felt a strong, spicy burn mixed with smoke and wood.

“Cough, cough cough…”

Ming Po shuddered all over and coughed in rare embarrassment.

At this moment, information surfaced in his consciousness.

[Title has been switched.]

[Currently equipped: Werewolf (Slaughter—Red Copper).]

[Werewolf equipped effect has taken effect.]

The next instant, a warm current surged from his abdomen and flowed through his limbs and bones.

The faint exhaustion from going outside and coming back disappeared in the blink of an eye. His heart pumped more violently, and his spirit clearly improved. A restless feeling that came from overflowing stamina made him unable to stop wanting to shake his body, as if he had drunk four or five cups of strong coffee in a single day.

So this is how titles are used?

Ming Po quickly screwed the cap back on.

Thank heavens, this was a twist cap and not an oak cork. Otherwise, Ming Po would not even know how to stuff it back in.

He sighed.

To be honest, he had originally planned to sleep for a while. He wanted to try and see whether he could fall asleep. He also wanted to wait a few days and see what would happen when that countdown was about to end.

But now, he felt somewhat restless.

Just putting on this title made Ming Po feel a desire for destruction brewing from the depths of his heart.

His emotions gradually became surging and impassioned, which happened to wash away the listlessness he had felt when he was lonely. His teeth itched, as if they had become sharper. His nails seemed to have hardened, and the strength in his fingers was too abundant. He really wanted to… crush something with force.

He wanted to run. He wanted to sprint freely and joyfully. Ming Po felt that perhaps he could learn parkour. Perhaps he could take advantage of the fact that no one could see him and sprint across the rooftops, incidentally testing whether a ghost would fall to death.

But reason also told Ming Po that his current physical constitution should not have been strengthened. Perhaps this was merely an illusion caused by an excessive abundance of stamina.

Unfortunately, the other bottle of “Gold” rank alcohol was already shattered, so he could no longer pour it out, and he did not know what its exact effect was. Ming Po also did not know how to remove a title… If he had to endure these boring seven days in this excited state, that would be far too dull.

“No day is better than today… Let’s do it now.”

Ming Po was eager to try.

He bent the joint of his right index finger, producing a crisp crack.

He passed by the broken mirror, only to see a faint trace of dim yellow ignite at the bottom of his pupils.

It was a very faint glow, like a bedside nightlight turned to its lowest brightness. If one stood even a little farther away, one probably would not even be able to see the slight change in his pupils.

He was very certain that before drinking the alcohol, his eyes had not been like this.

So this was… the power of a title, or perhaps of a “domain”?

Ming Po still remembered that “Ink” had mentioned the names “Domain of Virtue” and “Domain of Balance.”

The Domain of Slaughter sounded nice.

Those three advancement conditions… did not seem especially difficult either.

“I was originally thinking that perhaps I had created too much killing karma…”

Ming Po murmured softly as he walked toward the front door. “But now it seems that I simply haven’t killed enough.”

He truly understood just how deep the “wanton recklessness” that Deceivers could achieve really was.

Just how powerful, how dangerous… how distorted the power of Time Chips was.

If everyone could change time, that meant nothing was real.

Memories that one believed could remain eternally unchanged could also be easily erased by others, to the point that one would not even know what one had lost. A lover one once missed could also be killed before one ever fell in love with her, altering that entire bond of fate.

Hope and love… under the power of [Time], were so fragile.

However, Ming Po thought of a mad method that might solve all these difficult problems.

For example, killing all the Deceivers.

That was right

Gather all the chips. Kill all the Deceivers!

Make it so that this authority to revise history by “one vote passing” belonged to only one person.

That way, the timeline would stabilize.

Or rather… perhaps this was the only path from the very beginning!

Ming Po suddenly had a realization.

The host had said that modifications made by Time Chips to Deceivers could not directly take effect. In other words, Deceivers had directly jumped out of reincarnation and existed independently of the timeline. All modifications involving Deceivers had to wait until the next cycle before taking unified effect.

That was why the historical modifications made by those two people from the previous game took effect simultaneously.

Since that was the case, why had Ink said they had to hide their faces and identities?

Combined with Ai Shiping’s experience of being killed, Ming Po finally understood everything.

Before Deceivers became Deceivers, they were still mortals.

If someone could return to the past and kill them ahead of time, perhaps they would never become Deceivers.

Or if someone returned to the period before they died and saved them… because they did not die, they also would not become Deceivers.

Whether this modification took effect in this cycle or the next cycle

As long as they could not become Deceivers, then the versions of them that existed as Deceivers might disappear directly because of the paradox!

It bypassed the option of “defeating the other party in the game” and directly killed the other party in reality.

Therefore, this was a game where exposing one’s identity was equivalent to being eliminated directly.

He remembered Ink’s initial manic and mocking words.

[Our game has tolerant and merciful rules—after surviving any game, you may leave!]

They could indeed leave at any time, but that small number of chips was not nearly enough… It might not even be enough to modify the history one needed to modify for oneself, let alone to resist other people’s modifications to history.

[You can insert this precious one hour into your past and modify what you did during that hour, thereby achieving an incredible resurrection!]

They could indeed revive, but once they revived, it meant modifying the history of them becoming Deceivers. Thus, they would lose their identity as Deceivers… and therefore be unable to return to the game.

[With these Time Chips, you can change your own fate however you wish!]

They could indeed change their own fate

But others could also change it back.

Although in theory, this game only needed to be participated in once, and although in theory, history only needed to be modified once

There were simply too many people holding this supreme authority.

For example, a relative saved by someone after they modified history might also become dead again because another person modified history once more. A company revived after history was modified might also become even more miserable due to history modified by someone else.

Ink’s words were all correct.

But none of them were entirely correct.

Hidden within them were self-mocking sarcasm and lofty pity.

Because once one entered the Deceitful Game, it meant seeing the truth of the world. From then on, one was no longer an ordinary person who could not see the flow of the timeline. Even one’s cognition would no longer change along with the world’s alterations, and from then on, one lost the chance to drift with the current.

This also meant

If he did not kill all the other Deceivers, then he was destined never to have peace.

Everything he possessed would be easily destroyed by other Deceivers.

Ming Po walked to the front door and inserted his final chip into the hole marked [Advancement].

With a clang, black-red rose patterns spread across the door like rust emerging from its surface.

Immediately afterward, a sun emblem appeared right in the center of the door. It was exactly the same as the symbol on the False Gold of Days.

Ming Po opened the door and stepped inside.

This was not a game that allowed people to make up for their regrets.

This was a game in which only one person could become the final victor.

It was a game of “selecting a god.”

Winner takes all.

…Loser turns to dust.