I Forged the Myth of the Ancient Overlords
Chapter 847 - 847 846. End-of-Life Care

Chapter 847: 846. End-of-Life Care Chapter 847: 846. End-of-Life Care Even though Lu Ban felt that this incarnation of an Outer God might indeed have ill intentions, she was, after all, the most heavily polluted creature in this world. If she really wanted to stir up trouble, there was no need for subterfuge.

So, since Baobao had offered to send an avatar to help those players, it would be foolish not to take advantage of the opportunity.

Lu Ban agreed decisively.

Back at the company, he quickly arranged for a new round of testing for “Morning Star.”

This time, Lu Ban had two experiments.

One was to see if players who had already acquired superpower abilities due to the Night Country incident could use their powers in the Foreign Domain.

The other was to find out if common players could gain new superpower abilities under the influence of knowledge infusion in the Foreign Domain.

Players who already had superpower abilities had actually achieved Lu Ban’s basic goal of resistance to pollution, and the sights and experiences of the normal Foreign Domain would no longer cause a decrease in their sanity.

However, commoners were the majority, and they would inevitably face varying degrees of corruption from pollution. If achieving universal resistance to pollution was Lu Ban’s goal, then subjecting common people to pollution was an inevitable step.

The first experiment was going well; those players were happily completing the same tasks in Lu Ban’s “Silent Lands” that he had once undertaken.

The second, however, was a bit more troublesome.

Common people exposed to pollution would inevitably encounter mental problems, diminishing their sanity, and in severe cases, even undergo mutation. Although, with Baobao’s assistance, these people might not die on the spot or turn into monsters, having a mental breakdown from playing a game would still hugely impact the reputation of Lu Ban’s “Morning Star.”

Silent Media, Lu Ban’s company, wasn’t a massive corporate empire that spanned several countries and could directly control public opinion to suppress this matter.

So, Lu Ban had another idea.

That was to find some terminally ill patients who were on the brink of death and had lost hope for the future, and let them try it.

It may sound inhumane to say this, but since they were doomed to die anyway, why not use this opportunity to shine brightly and live a relatively extraordinary life?

With this thought, Lu Ban quickly contacted the Palliative Care Clinic at Jiangcheng City Third People’s Hospital through Tang Yu.

Most of the patients living in these wards were seriously ill and on the verge of death, with almost zero chance of being cured. Life-extending treatments were too painful, so to retain a sliver of dignity and peace in their final days, they chose this clinic.

Here, doctors and nurses generally provided treatments to alleviate pain, with the patient’s will as the main consideration, and family members often came to accompany them, creating a warm and gentle atmosphere.

Contrary to Lu Ban’s initial expectations, not only the elderly were in these wards, but also some young people.

Cancer was the reason most young people were admitted here, and many of them had extremely short hair due to radiotherapy. After stopping the corresponding treatments, they actually appeared much healthier.

“This patient used to work for an internet company,” the doctor explained, looking at the back of the patient. “Apparently, he has been working hard since his student days and always strived to be the best at the company. However, he later developed esophageal cancer, caused by irregular eating habits and unhygienic takeout food.”

Scared, Lu Ban hurriedly uninstalled the takeout app from his phone.

There were also other young people and middle-aged patients in the clinic, most of whom had contracted terminal illnesses due to lifestyle reasons and were sent here at the end.

Perhaps because of the traditional attitudes of the elderly, their families still hoped to extend their lives, so fewer of them were sent to this clinic, resulting in a younger demographic.

This actually fit quite well with what Lu Ban had in mind.

“It’s a bit embarrassing to say, but when Dr. Tang first approached me, I thought her department was starting to offer pre-sales services, haha,” the doctor joked, attempting to lighten the rather heavy atmosphere.

“Doctor, I will donate some ‘Morning Star’ to you. These virtual reality devices will allow these patients to experience the outside world without leaving their homes. I believe that this is also a form of care for their final moments.”

Lu Ban threw out the excuse he had prepared in advance.

He wasn’t really lying.

If these selected patients managed to gain something through their exploration of the Foreign Domain, it might even improve their physical condition and extend their lives.

At the very least, allowing these dying folks to embark on a long and bizarre journey at the end provided them with some solace.

The “Morning Star” device was soon delivered to the hospital.

For these patients, the things of the real world could no longer excite them.

Their lives were mostly peaceful and quiet, and any obsessions they had, they had already forced themselves to let go.

The final hours in the hospital room were a process of reconciling with oneself.

Or rather, during this stage, it was best not to engage too much with the world to avoid unnecessary yearning.

So even when the “Morning Star” arrived, most of the patients had no interest in using it.

But there were a few exceptions.

Ke Cheng was one of them.

He was the patient who worked on the internet and was diagnosed with esophageal cancer.

Originally, he was a competitive champion, working hard from childhood to adulthood, both academically and professionally, hoping that his efforts would change his destiny and make him a successful person.

But the arrival of the disease shattered his plans, his company declined, friends became distant, and even family seldom visited after learning of his terminal illness.

When the savings he had worked hard for years were about to run out, Ke Cheng chose to give up treatment.

The pain had tortured him so much that he was hardly human anymore, and he decided to make his final departure more dignified.

Waiting for death was more a feeling of emptiness rather than pain.

You never knew if you would wake up the next day; every move you made, every word you spoke, carried the weight of a final testament.

Moreover, the eyes of everyone who knew looked upon you with pity.

At night, Ke Cheng in his hospital room looked at the helmet on the table.

He had heard about “Morning Star” before. It was said to be a device that transcended the era.

Having worked at an internet company, Ke Cheng was naturally interested, but to prevent himself from becoming too attached to the world, he had resisted the urge to engage with it.

But now, unexpectedly, the hospital had been donated some.

Ke Cheng gazed at the helmet and sighed.

If this device was as miraculous as touted online, then he too could bear witness to history.

Thinking this, he donned the helmet.

A vast expanse of stars appeared before his eyes.

More than the surrounding environment, the first thing Ke Cheng noticed was something else: his body was no longer in a dull pain.

The area affected by the disease felt as if it had completely healed, so good that it couldn’t be better, and this thought alone made him feel the journey worthwhile.

Having relished the feeling of a healthy body, Ke Cheng was ready to follow the instructions in the manual to explore the world’s landscapes.

However, a door suddenly appeared before him.

Within his field of vision, several lines of silver text emerged indifferently.

“Do you want to understand the meaning of life?”

“Do you want to truly live?”

“Yes/No”

Ke Cheng frowned.