Famine 44: One-Way Road

[Day Fifteen / 01:32 AM / Sacred Tomb – Layer Eight / Current farm satiety: 5%]

Shi He sat beneath the stars.

At the edge of the ritual platform, one step further and there was only endless void—a bottomless abyss.

The descent of the deity had astonishingly brought Anderson here. Anderson’s safety had greatly lifted everyone’s spirits. Soon after, Anderson had taken Commander Niedu away, saying that would be the quickest way back to the Ship of Bones.

Over the next few days, the Xubei team stayed in the Sacred Tomb, facing… all of this.

In front of Shi He stood a massive ice sculpture, over a man’s height. The High Priest, hair trailing long, eyes gently closed, wore a calm and serene expression. Rather than a half-dead frozen puppet, he seemed immersed in a dreamless slumber.

Behind the High Priest was a beautifully carved metal box, also over a man’s height, gleaming within the ice.

The Archgod strove to keep them out, yet the High Priest had, by various means, lured them here.
The place was empty; all that could be left was this box for them to witness.

When viewed by Shi He’s [Eye of Insight], the box’s description was as follows—

[Pandora’s Box]
Holding the ultimate truth.
Global broadcast: When the box is opened, its contents will be announced to all players in the Famine Game.
You will come to understand everything, and at the same time, unleash the greatest calamity upon this world.

——
The phrasing was so vague it sent chills through the heart.

The frozen layer over the box was not hard; a little effort would shatter it.

Whether to open it or not had sharply divided the team.

“Come on, after all this—after everything we’ve been through—isn’t this what we came for?” Wang Jianguo said. “If we were going to back out, why come at all?”

“We’ve already gained more than enough from this trip,” Zhong Yanqing countered. “The Archgod’s descriptions are at worst ambiguous, never outright lies. Unleashing ‘the greatest calamity’ is just too great a risk!”

“There are things we might be able to bear—but what about the tens of thousands of ordinary players? What about them? Commander Nie spent seven years saving lives; would we make ourselves sinners for all time by opening a box and plunging the world into slaughter? I can’t do it.”

“There are too many unknowns,” Shi He said.

Why, with all that power, would the Archgod repeatedly design games to destroy its own civilization?
Who exactly was the High Priest, and how did he possess power and life far beyond his kind?
He had been a devoted ruler, beloved of his people; why, at the end, such deep hatred between him and his flock?

Why did he bring outsiders like us here and reveal this box—was it well-intentioned, or something else?

What, after all, is inside that box?

Everything was a mystery.

Including Shi He, none could find the resolve to break the deadlock: open it or abandon it.

Two days had already passed here.

Zhong Yanqing gave a wry smile. “If only Bian Xu were here.”
“That guy always has ideas—strange, unexpected ideas… and then, somehow, he always convinces you to follow along.”

“……” Everyone’s eyes were downcast; no one spoke.

Only the cold wind wailed.

Clang!

Niedu struck hard, scythe energy condensed into a line, cleaving a bullet from the air!

The wind screamed, the kindly-faced reaper’s black cloak snapped in the gusts. With a single sweep of the scythe, a billow of black smoke tumbled forth, sweeping a two-meter, 180-degree arc—the very domain of death!

The power of the chosen was terrifying indeed.

Gu Haoping dared not clash head-on, forced on the defensive, barely holding up. Just a brush with the reaper’s wind left both his hands streaming with blood; if not for the aid of his bone hand, he may not even have been able to grasp the Wailing of the Bitter Bones.

The stench of iron spread on the wind as Gu Haoping fought to steady his breathing, fresh, brackish blood rising in his throat and dripping from his chin.

The moment he set eyes on Niedu, Gu Haoping should have turned and run.
But for a single instant, he hesitated.
That hesitation lost him his chance to escape before the battle ever started.

For years—including all their sparring and duels—there had never been room for distraction when facing Niedu.

To end him would not take long.

At last, Gu Haoping’s foot slipped; his balance failed. Niedu lunged, thrusting the scythe squarely through Gu Haoping’s shoulder!

Shnk!

The blade pierced tender flesh, passing through bone. The sensation made Niedu’s hand tremble hard; he quickly looked up to gaze at his most cherished little brother.

Gu Haoping made no sound, swallowing every last scream back down.
In its place, his lips only trembled, opening and closing.

“Nie-ge…” Gu Haoping’s voice shuddered, “…does it hurt?”

His voice was hoarse and as light as a whisper.

It was the first thing either had said since reuniting.

Niedu was struck speechless for a heartbeat. Gritting his teeth, he pressed forward, the scythe ringing as it tore through.

Niedu’s voice was cracked and raw.
“It should be the labor players, and the wounded soldiers now bleeding out.”

“……”

“It’s my fault.”
They spoke simultaneously.

Gu Haoping blinked in surprise, raising his gaze to see Niedu’s bloodshot eyes.

“It’s my fault. I should have taught you better. But I simply never noticed your pain—never realized all you were enduring… It’s all my fault. The man you are today… is entirely… entirely my responsibility.”

“All these years… you’ve suffered enough, Haoping.”

“I’m sorry.”

Don’t apologize.

Don’t cry.

Why are you being so gentle? Do you have any idea what I’ve done?

Gu Haoping’s jaw trembled; his bloodied hand gripped the blade sunk through his shoulder, pain nearly robbing him of breath, the world dimming at the edges. That look in Nie-ge’s eyes made his own heart melt—yet still, he couldn’t bear to look away.

“You’re just…” Gu Haoping whimpered, “You’re always like this…”

“Those line-shrimps, and me too, none of us ever let you think for yourself…”

Niedu gave a weary sigh and closed his eyes in exhaustion.

“You… you’re always thinking of these things.”
“This is the path I chose, the principles I serve. My every drop of blood, every bead of sweat, I’ve shed where I believed it mattered.”

“Just like you.”

“But did you ever think—if someone saw your suffering and asked you to kill me, what would you do?”

Gu Haoping coughed twice, wiped blood from his lips, and softly answered, “He’s just a servant. I’d let you kill him.”

“Fool! Utter fool!” Niedu nearly saw stars from anger.

“Who gave you the right to dispose of others’ lives, Gu Haoping? When you were nothing, I took you in and taught you with care—always asking your opinion. Did I ever once treat you as mere livestock? Who taught you this?”

Niedu, agitated, caused the scythe to tremble and twist deeper into Gu Haoping’s shoulder. His whole body slackened, yet he only laughed through the pain, choking out every sound.

Gu Haoping looked up, staring hungrily at Niedu, letting his gaze linger for a long, long moment before whispering, “The world taught me.”

Cast into the world, weak and scorned for years—who ever asked his opinion?
When the Archgod visited famine on this earth, did it ask humanity’s opinion?
Later, when those he’d saved with Nie-ge tried to eat him—to consume him alive—did they ask for his permission?

Since no one had, who could blame him when he did the same?

The world treated him as an ant—how could he treat it otherwise?

With one exception: Nie-ge.
Only Nie-ge ever looked at him, laid a warm, dry hand upon his head, smiled, and asked: What kind of life do you wish for?

Niedu said nothing. In the end, it was Gu Haoping who came back to himself first. He shifted, his shoulder gushing fresh blood, but he ignored it, pushed himself upright and asked with a smile:

“Nie-ge, can you touch my head again?”

“……” Still shameless as ever. Niedu’s forehead throbbed, and he could only sigh.

“Too late.” Niedu said, brow dark. “I’ll dislocate your joints and bring you before everyone—kneel and pay for your crimes. If you repent truly and accept judgment and punishment, I can spare you, crippled, but alive.”

“Is that so…” Gu Haoping lowered his head, lashes trembling. “…What a pity.”

In that moment, with the whole battlefield and all Ship of Bones’ players bleeding behind him, Niedu’s heart was untroubled.

Years later, once all the dust had settled, on some sunlit afternoon as bright as their first meeting, Niedu would finally understand:
What Gu Haoping found a pity was not how the road had diverged so far; it was a pity only that he could not have Nie-ge touch his head one more time.

Just like when, at their final reunion before the armies, Gu Haoping did not leave; not out of regret…

Only—after so long apart, he wanted to see him one more time.

As Niedu opened his mouth, Gu Haoping’s figure shimmered, melting away into blood before the tip of his blade.

Shock and fury shook Niedu: “Gu Haoping?!”

Niedu had not led the Ship of Bones so long through simple naiveté. He had raised Gu Haoping himself, lived and eaten together for years, taught him every curse and trick. He understood both sides’ strengths intimately and was confident he could restrain him.

Unless—

Unless, during these two months apart, when Gu Haoping alone oversaw the Ship of Bones, he had found something that changed his power fundamentally.

“What’s going on?!” Sha Commander blurted out.

Niedu swept his scythe, employing some unknown scanning power. His pupils shrank. “…Gu Haoping is gone.”

“That son of a bitch ran off? Cowardly bastard—he’s sold you all out!” Sha Commander roared. “Brothers! Kill them!”

The battle cries rose again.

With Gu Haoping gone, Niedu had free hands—the fate of the Commander’s Guard was only a matter of time.

…Just like that?
Victory, just like that?

Sizhiyan, floating above, felt his heart skip a beat.

No, it couldn’t be that easy.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and thought back carefully.

When he had first come to the Ship of Bones, Anderson’s words echoed again in his mind.

—”The blood pool has awoken.”
—”…I don’t know why, but the once still blood pool suddenly began roiling, tides rising. By now, it can send blood waves higher than a man’s head…”

—”…Fewer and fewer qualified players come here for supplies… Commander Nie has to earn food for everyone, keeping his word to the Xubei team…”

Later, when the labor riot struck during an earthquake, the Ship shook—and on Gu Haoping’s face, not a trace of surprise.

“…It must be fate.”
Gu Haoping whispered, as if resolved to something.
“We’re just doing what was always meant to be…”

And then, that towering tidal wave of blood…
Sizhiyan drew a silent breath.

At last, the answer was clear.
Since the beginning, the blood pool’s abnormality was surely Gu Haoping’s doing!
The fear of the blood pool, the supply bottleneck—these were Gu Haoping’s own designs.

All of this, simply to get Niedu away from the Ship of Bones!

Was Gu Haoping controlling the blood pool?
…No, not quite.
Sizhiyan pressed his knuckles to his brow.

Thinking carefully, Gu Haoping didn’t have that power.
When Sizhiyan acted, Gu Haoping had given up controlling the blood surges very quickly. If he truly dominated the pool, he wouldn’t have lost control so easily.

Their connection was deep and tangled, but it wasn’t rulership—it was…

…Cooperation?

At the farm, Sizhiyan sat bolt upright, leaping to his feet: “No!”

Empty!

The earth shook.

The entire Ship of Bones quaked, the fighting on both sides thrown off-balance, nearly tumbling together.

In the air, a distant sigh drifted.
With blood in his voice—resigned, almost relieved—it was Gu Haoping speaking.

“I never intended to let it come to this,” Gu Haoping said. “But it seems destiny left me no choice.”
“Nie-ge, hate me if you must. In the end… go on with your life, but always, always remember me.”

Niedu trembled with rage: “What the hell are you saying?!”

“Gu Haoping—what have you done?!”

—The last words grated out through clenched teeth, trembling, already tinged with a heartbroken, murderous grief.

From the crowd came a chorus of shouts, someone called, “Look!”

Beyond Niedu’s zone of safety, a hollow began boring downward, widening, like a breach in the hull of a ship.

Down and down, the passage tunneled.

The cursed blood of the blood pool erupted from the hollow, spurting upward in a fountain.

Niedu’s heart almost stopped; with a wave, his bone insects dove deep, fusing into blood and bone, agony making him stagger, nearly choking on blood, and only then did the breach slowly seal.

But that was not enough. Not nearly enough.

In the broad avenues for qualified players, in the narrow alleys thronged by laborers, in tents and under beds—

Countless identical holes, one after another, opening downward, white bone gradually revealed.

Gu Haoping, using his authority… was offering up the Ship of Bones to the blood pool.