Only I Walk Alone

Xing Chen couldn’t see the stars in the sky because it was daytime. He asked, “Master, why can’t we see stars during the day?”

Wu Ge explained, “During the day, the sun is too bright, overshadowing the light of the stars.”

Xing Chen nodded thoughtfully and after a while, he said, “Master, I want to learn sculpting.”

He felt ashamed for wanting to switch to sculpting due to his lack of talent in writing, fearing it might indicate his master had lacked insight.

However, Wu Ge did not discourage him, simply responding, “Go ahead and learn.”

After Xing Chen left, Wu Ge resumed his writing, this time not referring to any human works but starting on his own story, the story of a werewolf.

“The first time he opened his eyes, he saw this rich and magical world, but he was too afraid and immediately closed his eyes. After a long while, he cautiously opened them again and carefully observed his surroundings. Slowly turning his eyes until his head also began to move, his mouth slightly opened, showing the first expression of wonder in his life…”

Wu Ge’s “A Werewolf’s Life” became a bestseller. It described the lonely journey of a werewolf who had no companions throughout his life. New werewolves would appear beside him as he progressed, but they would eventually leave one by one.

Wu Ge seemed to have forgotten his mission to teach Xing Chen, embarking on a self-questioning and reflective journey through his writing.

Wu Ge became famous once again for another ten years.

Ten years later, Xing Chen returned, now twenty-seven years old. The decade away hadn’t granted him sculpting talent.

Kneeling, Xing Chen said, “Master, I’ve come to resign. I lack the talent for creation. I should go back to farming and raising pigs.”

Instead, Wu Ge handed Xing Chen a pencil, not a pen for writing but for drawing.

Werewolf drawing skills were still at a child’s doodling level. They might scribble with sticks in the dirt, but it was mostly considered childish behavior. However, such childlike acts often appeared in Wu Ge’s works.

Taking the pencil, Xing Chen asked, “What should I draw?”

Wu Ge looked up, “Draw the starry sky.”

Xingchen looked up. He couldn’t see any stars because it was daytime, the sunlight too strong to see any starlight. But at that moment, the starry sky he had always looked up to as a child filled his mind.

He began to draw.

Xingchen started to gain recognition for his drawings of starry skies, not realistic but imagined, fictional.

Yet, with these starry sky drawings, Xiao Chao gradually simulated a real star navigation route, the path Xing Chen had taken in his previous life as a Star Worm, a lonely path.

One day, Xing Chen suddenly said, “Master, the starry sky in my brain moves, but the drawings are still. I want to make the drawings move. How can I do that?”

Wu Ge hadn’t stopped writing; he and Xingchen embarked on a completely different path. He was using creation to review life, a form of spiritual cultivation.

He paused, rubbing his temples, then explained, “The images seen by human eyes are not continuous but composed of countless still images. These countless still images form a continuous scene because each image advances one step on the timeline, so we see this constantly changing world.”

Wu Ge’s explanation might not have been the simplest, but Xing Chen understood. Countless still images could eventually form a moving animation.

From that day, Xing Chen began to create animations, bringing a new cultural product to the werewolf kingdom.

He was now thirty-five years old!

After thirty-five years of development, the werewolf city evolved into a werewolf nation, with a population reaching 500,000. The territory of the werewolf nation had expanded more than tenfold.

Xiao Chao had discussed what to do with the werewolf tribe once humans returned. Wu Ge suggested relocating the werewolf tribe to a new planet, anticipating that Xiao Chao would have mastered planet terraforming technology by then.

At this moment, Xiao Chao needed the wisdom of the werewolf tribe, so it no longer restricted their development. It hoped the werewolf tribe would grow rapidly, produce scientists, and thus accelerate its own advancement.

Xiao Chao never forgot its mission to save all of humanity!

Thirty-five years passed, and the simulated werewolf body controlled by Wu Ge had aged significantly. Wu Ge periodically replaced its parts to blend into the werewolf society, as an immortal being among them would easily be deemed a divine envoy.

One day, Wu Ge told Xing Chen, “I’ve grown old, I can’t write anymore, and it’s time for me to leave.”

Xing Chen’s tears flowed uncontrollably, understanding the sentiment as he had recently bid farewell to his parents. “It’s too fast, time flies too quickly, Master, I still remember the knowledge you taught me under the starry sky.”

Wu Ge smiled, “It’s an inevitable part of life, Xing Chen, have you finished your animation?”

Xing Chen replied, “Master, the previous animation is complete. I’m now working on a new one, having set up a studio and started using some new techniques.”

As time went on, the werewolf race began to modernize, developing new technologies besides those provided by Xiao Chao.

With each generation, werewolves became more human-like, their skin smoother, fur receding, and their facial features and limbs more similar to humans, except for their wolf ears and tails.

Facing Xing Chen’s response, Wu Ge didn’t say much, only to ask again after a while, “Xing Chen, have you finished your animation?”

Xing Chen thought Wu Ge was suffering from dementia as he began to repeat the question, which saddened but didn’t annoy him, realizing he was also aging.

Three years later, Wu Ge became bedridden, but his consciousness remained clear. However, whenever he saw Xing Chen, he would ask, “Xing Chen, have you finished your animation?”

Xing Chen would patiently reply each time, “Master, my seventeenth animation is complete, and I’m working on the eighteenth. Technology keeps evolving, and the new talents are impressive. I might be surpassed soon.”

Wu Ge smiled, shaking his head, “Xing Chen, do you remember what you said as a child under the starry sky? You wanted to depict everything from your dreams. So, I ask you again, have you finished your animation?”

Xing Chen froze, suddenly remembering his original aspiration, and broke down in tears, crying like a child, “Master, I… I forgot my initial purpose!”

Wu Ge had closed his eyes, his simulated body’s processor reaching its limit after years without replacement.

Wu Ge departed, leaving Xing Chen wailing loudly.