This Game Is Too Real

Although Dora had seen cars before, once she sat inside the metal box, she was filled with amazement, touching here and there, seemingly trying to understand how this thing could move.

Watching her fussing about it, Night Ten couldn't help but comment.

"You've even ridden in a starship capable of hyperspace travel, what's there to be curious about with this little thing?"

Dora paused for a moment before remembering what a starship was, then she softly said.

"The starship... is more impressive than this?"

The small koala strapped to the front passenger seat let out a helpless sound.

"This must be the most blackened moment for the Orion."

"Sorry, sorry, I didn't mean that—"

"I know," Night Ten sighed, watching Dora's frantic explanation, "I suppose... it seems we'll have to start from the most basic common sense."

Perhaps when they return to the City of Dawn, he should go to a bookstore and buy a set of elementary school language textbooks.

Although spiritual energy is a very convenient communication tool, a lack of common sense is also a big problem.

A line of cars stopped at the entrance to Lowell Camp.

This former military base has now been converted into an Old Age Museum open to tourists.

Engraved on the waist-high stone tablet at the entrance are the events that once occurred here—

A General named Lowell made unparalleled achievements in the icy wilderness.

His legacy is both praised and criticized by posterity.

Some believe his ideas were good, just poorly executed. Furthermore, Red Soil later played some accidental roles, unlike his critics claimed it was absolutely worthless.

But others think he was merely an obstinate tyrant, a gambler who rode roughshod, imagining himself to be an omnipotent savior, who, for the sake of an inherently impossible plan, caused the deaths of those who shouldn't have died, ending the last chance to pass on civilization.

There are also those who say if General Lowell hadn't tried to use the dwindling resources to read an almost impossible future, perhaps the people in this research institute wouldn't have died, or at least half could have survived.

Perhaps they would have become another No.60 Shelter.

Perhaps the people here would be like the Southern sea area survivors, having no need of Red Soil's extreme measures, not even needing anyone to lead them, as they would spread their own Light and warmth to farther places...

Unfortunately, history has no ifs, the shape of another future is left to the imaginations of posterity.

Besides Lowell-era relics, the museum also houses many artifacts from the West Winds Dynasty, the Great Moon Dynasty, and so on.

Most of these objects are personal collections of former West Winds Empire Jinjaron Harbor governor Duke Nihak.

After the Alliance's social science researchers study and archive these relics, they donate these spoils back to this museum belonging to the People of Jinjaron Harbor.

Also, some objects entered the market during the refurbishment of the old town.

The Jinjaron Harbor City Hall bought back some of these through auctions with fiscal allocations.

Besides those aged relics, the museum also includes accounts of these histories by later generations.

For example, "Red Soil" written by Mr. Mouse, etc.

However, this is ultimately an inglorious history.

The interest of the repeatedly frustrated residents of Jinjaron Harbor in this history is far less than before, so the museum is mostly filled with outside tourists.

While walking inside the Lowell Camp, Mayor Yoder of Jinjaron Harbor said in a slightly apologetic voice.

"It would have been better if you informed us of your itinerary a few days in advance, so we could make some arrangements beforehand."

Han Mingyue smiled and replied.

"No need for such hassle, we're just here for a quick look and will leave soon."

Just as they were talking, noise was already coming from outside the museum.

Upon hearing that visitors from South Gate Two had suddenly arrived, the whole city's media was stirred up, and a large group of reporters swarmed over.

Fortunately, Yoder, being a capable person, anticipated the media's response, and had earlier informed the guards, deploying a large police force to set up a cordon outside the museum.

The guests already inside the museum could continue their tour, while those arriving later could only wait outside.

The overwhelming enthusiasm startled Dora; she had never seen so many people before.

"Are those... all reporters?"

She had heard about reporters from Night Ten, although she didn't quite understand what the term meant.

"They're not all reporters, probably also some spectators," said Night Ten with a subtle expression, as he looked at some people in the crowd making gestures of worship.

The guest from South Gate Two did indeed possess spiritual energy, but these fanatics probably misunderstood something.

But soon he remembered, when he first came ashore it seemed to be the same.

The people referred to them as "Iron Man" and worshiped them in the same way.

Only later, with more interaction and some education, they realized the iron clump that was impervious to knives and guns was just an exoskeleton anyone could wear, and the term "Iron Man" gradually fell out of use.

Night Ten suddenly felt a bit disappointed.

These people should have been educated, yet they seem just as before.

The same recipe with just a different soup, and they couldn't recognize it.

This group of smart people was extremely clever, yet stupid at the most fatal points.

Perhaps noticing Night Ten's expression, Yoder smiled apologetically and said.

"Pardon the spectacle."

Having been by Fang Chang's side for quite some time, he could be considered among the elites of this settlement.

He was well aware of his responsibilities in all this, yet faced with the unstoppable tide, he felt a deep sense of helplessness.

All he could do was merely maintain the status quo.

While the Alliance still needed this place.

"It's not funny, not worth laughing at," Night Ten shook his head and sighed, saying, "Honestly... I've even been thinking, perhaps my friends and I have done something wrong, maybe we shouldn't have come here from the start."

Mayor Yoder quickly spoke up.

"Please don't think that way, every resident of this settlement is grateful to you. Had you not come, this museum would still be Duke Nihak's ranch..."

"Perhaps."

Night Ten glanced up at the tower on the enclosing wall, where a centurion or thousands of leaders once hung.

He still remembered who had hung that guy up.

After a pause, Night Ten spoke again.

"What a pity... the one who first conquered this camp is already dead."

Mayor Yoder froze for a moment, then after a while recalled who he was talking about, and fell silent as well.

He had met that person once, even kindly advised him against heading north, but when he couldn't be persuaded, he accepted the resignation at Fang Chang's behest.

Seeing the circumstances and thinking about that person's eventual fate, Mayor Yoder couldn't help but feel a bit sad.

Not wanting to wear that sadness on his face, he looked to the outsider beside him—a guest from South Gate Two.

He forced a smile and said.

"I heard... you can see the souls of the deceased? Could you help me see if there's a general here staring with wide eyes?"

Dora paused for a moment, correcting him matter-of-factly.

"That's a misconception, only the living have souls; the dead do not possess such a thing."

Mayor Yoder stood stunned, persistently asking.

"Then... where did the souls of the deceased go?"

"Nowhere, still in the places they existed, except it no longer belongs to them, but has become a part of others," Dora blinked, smiled, and said, "We are influenced by our ancestors; their marks are more or less on us... and we are their continuation."

She discovered these things through Little Koala.

"Gone nowhere..."

Mayor Yoder murmured to himself, looking at his hand, suddenly feeling overwhelmed with emotion.

So he hasn't gone anywhere...

He's always been here, watching them keep moving forward.

"Don't give up."

Ms. Han Mingyue gently patted his shoulder and led Dora inside the camp.

This relic has basically been excavated, with only a few doubtful points left.

Then suddenly, Dora stopped in her tracks, her gaze focusing on several iron cages in the center of the camp.

"Those were used during the West Winds era to hold slaves." Seeing her puzzled expression, Ms. Han Mingyue explained gently.

Dora nodded and then asked.

"The ones previously held here... were mostly Moon people?"

Ms. Han Mingyue showed a surprised expression.

"How did you figure that out?"

Dora didn't speak; she merely directed her gaze at those iron cages.

Just as her look focused on the mottled rust, a deep-eyed man looked back at her, showing a shocked expression.

"You can see me."

"You are... the Great Moon King?"

During her time at Potato Harbor, Dora had learned about the Moon people's history from Ms. Han Mingyue.

Though not entirely sure, upon seeing this man, the term sprung to her mind immediately.

She felt he resembled Tunnan.

They might be similar types of people, yet had many different aspects.

"Great Moon King... is that what my descendants call me?" The dignified king murmured and then eagerly asked Dora, "Tell me, how are my people doing?"

Recalling the good times at Potato Harbor, Dora shyly smiled and said.

"They're quite well, at least... those I've seen are doing well."

"That's good..."

He seemed relieved, letting out a long sigh, his face showing a comforting smile.

"Thank you, I feel much better."

Seeing this seemingly relieved king, Dora asked, puzzled.

"Did you do something bad?"

The Great Moon King stood silently for a while, shook his head, and said.

"I don't know, but... they did suffer quite a bit because of me, I heard them kneeling here calling out my name, praying to me as night falls."

"However... I've heard it less recently; I initially thought they had all perished."

"It's good to be alive."

He smiled with relief, as the transparent shadow gradually faded, as if it had never existed.

The two communicated silently, unheard by anyone.

Dora nodded slightly in acknowledgment, watching the ephemeral shadow vanish into the wind.

However, at that moment, another shadow emerged from behind the mottled rust.

This person had a completely different aura from the Great Moon King, more like the "officer" Mayor Yoder described with wide eyes.

However—

Through spiritual energy, Dora could clearly feel that he was not the person Mayor Yoder referred to.

Moreover, they were two completely different kinds of people.

"These bastards... My Red Soil was meant to save people, not as a bargaining chip for seizing territory! Doesn't anyone realize how stupid it is to play tribal wars like primitive men in a zoo?"

"And— the nuclear winter has already ended, so why are they still using this crap as food! Damn it! They've even brought back slavery... It's like we're regressing!"

Dora was momentarily stunned, not understanding his incessant ramblings, but fortunately, there was someone nearby who knew a bit about spiritual energy.

Perhaps because the imprint of the United Human was on them, this time Night Ten also "saw" the person, and together with Dora at that.

It was to be expected.

He should be Lowell.

Looking at the rambling guy, he couldn't resist making a sarcastic remark.

"Isn't it possible that your Red Soil only developed after the nuclear winter ended?"

He maliciously speculated, likely needing more than just the warmth of spring and flowers blooming.

The expansion of the Red Soil might be inseparable from the bloody chaos of the tribal war era.

Someone has to push humanity beyond its limits repeatedly for the Red Soil to find truly suitable soil for growth.

That is when there's only one thought left in everyone's mind—

To survive.

Everything else can be discarded.

This rhetorical question left Lowell silent.

He stared wide-eyed at the young upstart before him, his nose nearly twisted with anger.

"Who the hell could foresee this? What was my situation then? Did I have another choice? One billion people! My force wasn't even enough to fill their teeth, if I couldn't feed them, do you know what would happen? Cannibalism, and I would be the damn one written into history books!"

As he spoke to this point, General Lowell suddenly fell silent again, sighed despairingly, and sat on the ground.

"Forget it... What was meant to happen has happened, I've already entered the history books, I know you want to laugh at me, go ahead and laugh."

As he said this, he suddenly couldn't continue, pressed his hand to his forehead, and muttered painfully.

"I admit, I also made mistakes, at least half... I let down those soldiers who trusted me, there are some things that can be overcome with spirit, and some things that can't. I let down those scholars, they said it couldn't be done, even at the peak of the United Human's prosperity, it would require a massive research facility to complete this project, but I thought they were United Human scholars, if they pushed hard enough, they'd figure it out..."

"I can't judge, but in a world composed of material, indeed there are many things that spirit can't accomplish," Night Ten sighed, "like you can't turn black into white, or square into round, not even with spiritual energy."

Lowell suddenly lifted his head, a glimmer of hope reigniting in his eyes.

"Are they... alright?"

Night Ten was silent for a while, then asked back.

"Can't you see?"

Lowell shook his head and cast his gaze toward the enclosing wall of the camp, speaking with a lost look in his eyes.

"I can't see outside, don't know which bastard started it... Seems like a fool who called himself the Moon King. Afraid those dirt-eaters would oppose him, he built a wall here. Though it backfired, no one dared oppose him while he was alive, but the later people imitated him, raising this camp wall higher and higher."

His Adam's apple bobbed, and he continued.

"Moreover... I feel increasingly distant from them. Maybe it's truly been too long ago, and I'm not worth remembering, perhaps soon enough... I'll vanish along with my momentary folly from this land."

Night Ten shrugged indifferently.

Though he wasn't seeking anyone's forgiveness, at least he admitted his utter mess.

However, at this moment, Dora seemed to realize something, suddenly speaking up.

"You... might actually not be here."

Lowell was stunned, glanced at his feet, then around him, a peculiar expression on his face.

"I'm not here? Then... where am I?"

Night Ten was also thrown off by Dora's words.

Although his prowess in spiritual energy was indeed not as refined as this "Temple Maiden," the already established resonance field couldn't possibly be false, right?

It was like speaking ghost stories in front of a ghost...

However, Dora didn't think so.

Looking at the ghost unseen by ordinary people, she continued in silent affirmation.

"The real you is in everyone here... They are all you, or rather, your continuation."

"And what remains here is only the very old... you of 200 years ago."

"The you who has not yet died."

"All are me..." Lowell was stunned for a long time, for some reason, a trace of fear appeared on his face.

"No..."

"That sort of thing..."

Dora nodded, earnestly gazing at him, even though he might not want to continue listening.

"You have not been forgotten, whether it's your Red Soil, or your momentary confusion..."

"Your soul is regarded by everyone here as... something as sacred as the Tree of Yenshof. They sing of your story and the miracles you bestowed, holding it as an example to be passed down."

"No! Stop talking, shut up—!"

He screamed hysterically, covering his face with his hands, then turned to wailing loudly as he vanished into the wind.

Or perhaps—

He returned to the timeline where he originally belonged.

The previously confused Night Ten suddenly had a moment of clarity in his mind.

Ah, so that's it.

What he had just witnessed wasn't Lowell, who had died many years ago, but the tyrant who 200 years ago was hysterically yelling on the execution ground.

His soul crossed the bound of time in its dying moment, glimpsing the appearance of this land two hundred years later at the threshold of death.

That certainly wasn't genuine time travel.

Like the crew members of the Hunter.

They stood on different timelines, and due to the profound resonance of their spirits on their individual timelines, they produced deductions or perhaps associations simultaneously.

Spiritual energy was merely one medium for triggering resonance; it was not the actual bridge connecting spirits.

"...Is this the resonance field?"

Night Ten suddenly realized that his understanding of spiritual energy and the resonance field had deepened once more.

And the void was now closer to him than ever before...

Dora's shoulder lightly shook, as if under some impact, and she staggered backward in a daze.

Standing beside her, Han Mingyue quickly supported her shoulder, asking with concern.

"Are you okay?"

Dora slowly opened her eyes, shook her head, and said.

"I'm okay."

Noticing a hint of peculiarity in her eyes, the expression on Han Mingyue's face gradually turned to eagerness, and she continued to gaze into Dora's eyes while asking.

"What just happened? You saw Lowell in person... didn't you?"

Dora nodded with a complex expression, yet there was a trace of confusion or perhaps bewilderment in her eyes.

Seeing her nod, Han Mingyue hurriedly continued to ask.

"What did he say?"

"He... cried, and he cried very sorrowfully. I wanted to comfort him, but he pushed me away."

Dora shook her head, paused, and then continued with a hint of loneliness, "I told him that everyone here is his continuation... he should have felt happy, but for some reason, he suddenly burst into tears."

Nearly every soul she had encountered before felt comforted upon knowing their continued existence in another form.

Including Koala's father.

Including the "Great Moon King."

However, General Lowell was different.

When he realized that everyone here was his continuation, his emotional agitation surpassed his regret over the Red Soil itself.

Watching Dora talk to herself, not only did Professor Han Mingyue nearby become stunned, but everyone including Professor Sun Zewen and Mayor Yoder were also dumbfounded on the spot.

However, it didn't last long, and Professor Han Mingyue soon regained her composure and said.

"I think I understand... you saw him from 200 years ago, didn't you?"

Dora lightly nodded.

"Yes."

Han Mingyue's face showed a genuine smile.

"Thank you, I understand now."

Dora stared at her in confusion, a joyful expression appearing on her face, and she said timidly.

"Did I help?"

Han Mingyue earnestly nodded, focusing her gaze on the camp before them.

"The last piece we were missing was actually General Lowell's own testimony."

"After his subordinates successfully rebelled, they almost destroyed all the relics he left behind, whether it's his notes or personal belongings. As a result, General Lowell's own opinions were reduced to mere fragments, leaving more indirect assessments of him from others, or clumsy attempts by successors to forge his notes."

"Whether they did so to retain their leader's last shred of dignity or to maintain their legitimacy, their clever manipulations severely hindered our excavation of the ruins and the restoration of historical truth."

"In fact, their clever behavior has, like Lowell, inspired—or rather influenced generations of equally clever successors, causing consequences far beyond the scope of Red Soil, and difficult to measure."

At this point, a comforting smile appeared on her face, as if a great undertaking had finally placed its last brick.

"...Thanks to your help."

"This blank has finally been filled."