Life Game In Other World
Chapter 386: The Person Behind the Scenes (Double-Length - Please Subscribe, Bookmark, and Vote for Monthly Tickets)

Chapter 386: Chapter 386: The Person Behind the Scenes (Double-Length Chapter Please Subscribe, Bookmark, and Vote for Monthly Tickets)

The dense Mercenary Corps convoy came to a halt on the narrow streets—every passerby had long since scattered to escape, leaving the sidewalks eerily silent.

At the forefront of the convoy, a man with short, curly brown hair rose from the passenger seat of a simple jeep. His hand rested on the ornate sword at his waist as he looked forward.

Standing alone in the center of the street, blocking the entire colossal convoy’s path, was a middle-aged military officer in City Defense Army uniform, his short brown hair elegant and handsome.

The officer was none other than Wright, and the man standing atop the jeep was Captain Aber of the Mercenary Corps owned by the Mining Consortium.

Wright glanced at Aber in front of him, straightened his pristine white officer’s gloves, and with a smile, he gestured invitingly,

"Captain Aber, the time is just right. How about sitting down for a cup of coffee?"

"No need."

Aber’s expression was as still as still water. From a distance, he glanced at the towering mining buildings and raised his left hand, making a signal.

The massive convoy began to slowly change lanes, taking an alternate route.

Meanwhile, Aber stepped down from the jeep, locking eyes with Wright.

"You are aware that the Mining Consortium has never trusted you,"

Wright adjusted his gloves and gripped the pistol at his waist,

"You are nominally the captain of the mercenary troop, but in reality, you have no control over it—every affair of the mercenary troop is manipulated by the direct descendants of the board, who are nothing but wine bags and rice bags.

"They never give you the slightest bit of good during peaceful times and use you as a beast of burden during crises. Even now, during the most perilous times, they don’t dare let you defend the Consortium buildings. With such employers, why should you fight to death for them?"

"I do the work of my position,"

Aber’s face remained calm as he firmly grasped the hilt of his sword, "How they guard against me is irrelevant to me,"

"So,"

Wright fixed his gaze on the man before him, "does this mean we are going to fight?"

In an instant, his figure disappeared.

——

Accompanied by the luxurious and solemn wooden door slowly opening, He Ao was presented with a spacious conference room.

The entire conference room was rectangular, with a massive floor-to-ceiling window against the wall directly opposite the door, the sunlight streaming through the glass perfectly lighting the entire room.

Through this expansive floor-to-ceiling window, more than half of Rock City’s ’scenery’ was under the surveillance of the conference room.

Taking a step forward, He Ao crossed the threshold.

To the right upon entering was a wall that was by no means narrow, adorned with a painting so visibly expensive it demanded attention.

On the left, a large oval conference table was surrounded by a group of pale-faced individuals seated in front of it.

Most were quite old, their cheeks and arms covered with fine wrinkles.

The oldest appeared to be in their seventies or eighties, the youngest in their forties or fifties.

But despite their advanced years, the majority radiated an odd excitement that straightened their weary bodies and filled them with vigor.

This was the support of power.

Power is the best stimulant in the world.

Step by step, He Ao approached these ’elderly men.’

They sat around the conference table, seemingly engaged in heated debate.

Some angrily waved their hands, others were flushed with anger, some were righteously indignant, while some showed indifference.

However, the scene stopped at this moment.

All their actions were frozen at this moment of debate.

Like wax figures crafted by a master, everything was remarkably lifelike.

He Ao walked up to a person who was standing, his chest rising and falling slightly, his cheeks flushed with the red of anger, his body still alive but unable to move, their eyes already losing focus, as if the pause button had been pressed, forever stopping at that instant.

He Ao traced his finger on the solid wood conference table.

The surface was smooth and not dusty, indicating that these people must have been arguing here not long ago.

The once high and mighty board of directors of the Mining Consortium, who haughtily dictated the fate of people’s lives, had now been turned into a series of ’strikingly realistic’ living wax figures here.

He Ao moved past the conference table and continued inside.

At the far end of this spacious conference room, there stood a huge wall of bookshelves, densely packed with a variety of books.

He Ao approached the bookshelves, and a series of chaotic murmurs reached his ears.

He reached out and touched a shelf above his head.

On this shelf were some books that were familiar yet foreign to him, the first named "The Origin of the Great Storm."

He Ao did not immediately pick up the book; instead, he deployed his Divine Sense, scanning the shelf.

Then he reached out and took "The Origin of the Great Storm," placing it on the ground far away. In the process, he suffered again the same contamination he had faced before.

After enduring the contamination, He Ao’s gaze shifted to the book behind "The Origin of the Great Storm," the "Reaper’s Notes."

This book, too, was written in the mystic script of Denis, and the moment he opened it, He Ao felt as if he had made contact with a vague Great Being.

This Great Being had no physical form; it was like the clouds in the sky or the mist on the ground, intangible, shrouded in utter darkness and silence. This darkness and silence seemed to be Its abode, and yet seemed to be Itself as well.

The instant he came into contact with this Great Being, He Ao felt a surge of a very special ’murmur’ resonate in his mind.

This ’murmur’ had no sound, yet exuded a mysterious and sinister allure, tempting He Ao’s soul, luring him to ’rest’ and fall into an eternal scene.

He Ao did not respond. He opened the book in his hands, not reading slowly but quickly flipping through the pages with Super Memory, remembering all the content.

As the Denis text entered his mind, forming clear meanings, the silent ’murmur’ echoing in his brain suddenly roared like a tolling bell, overtaking his entire mind.

In that moment, he felt his consciousness beginning to detach from his body, sinking into an expanse of forbidden darkness.

That was the domain of a Divine Being, the end of all life.

In this final moment, He Ao fiercely gripped the hilt of his sword at his waist, drawing the short sword slightly and using the sharp blade to cut his finger.

The moment his finger was cut, a rustling whisper arose in his ears, contending with the silent ’murmur,’ awakening him from the endless darkness.

His eyes, which had lost their brilliance, focused once again.

"Huff—"

He Ao exhaled, glanced at the wound on his finger, and sheathed the short sword.

As consciousness returned to his body, He Ao looked again at the "Reaper’s Notes" in his hand and placed it on the ground far away.

In the Copy World, knowledge itself carries contamination. Reading the book of a Divine Being can easily establish a connection with that Divine Being, leading to contamination by the Divine Being, resulting in the loss of life, or mutating into twisted monsters.

But He Ao wasn’t worried—after all, the more friends, the merrier.

He had anticipated the potential consequences before reading the book, so he had also prepared ’external forces’ for support.

After absorbing enough items related to the War God, the short sword had almost formed a strong binding with the War God in the realm of mysticism, essentially serving as a special solidified ritual,

Thus, He Ao could use the short sword to connect with the War God, using the War God’s contamination to counteract the contamination from other Divine Beings, something he had already tried in the first copy world of Yezola.

This "Reaper’s Notes" is very simple in content. To be precise, it is not the actual notes of the Grim Reaper, but the notes left by a ’wizard’ who was ’pursuing the truth about death’.

Wizards were a self-proclaimed group of people seeking transcendental truths during the Era of the Great Cataclysm, at a time when the world was still unaware of Talent Sequences and paths to advancement. These ’wizards’ accidentally mastered superhuman powers and sought methods of ascension through trial and error.

In the Era of the Great Cataclysm, many of the established paths to ascension for humanity originated from these fearless truth-seekers risking their lives through repeated trial and error.

Since the establishment of the Federation, hardly anyone has called themselves wizards anymore.

This notebook merely records some thoughts and observations, and the ’wizard’ who left the Reaper’s Notes likely lived before the Original Federation, in the ignorant and frantic Era of the Great Cataclysm.

His Talent Sequence was related to souls and the undead, and the notes chronicle his continuous pursuit of the truth about death, the step-by-step experimentation, attainment of ascension, and the process of becoming stronger.

In this process, he deduced that there was a Great Being symbolizing death existing in this world; thus, he began to follow the clues in search of this being.

The last entry in these notes mentions that the ’wizard’ encountered an indescribable, formless, and insubstantial ’black mist’ devoid of any sound and light.

The notes end there.

However, judging by the name of this notebook and the contamination attached to it, the wizard probably got his wish and ’saw’ the Grim Reaper in the end.

He Ao quickly opened the next book, "The Radiant Sanctuary."

It was related to the Eternal Light, but the book contained only a small part of content without context—the majority was missing. Despite this, he still encountered a wave of contamination from the Eternal Light.

Perhaps because the connection of this book to the Eternal Light was not as close as "Reaper’s Notes" to the Grim Reaper, and also because most of the content was missing.

Compared to the contamination from the Grim Reaper, the contamination from the Eternal Light was inconsequential to He Ao, akin to the War God’s daily muttering, far less than what good friends would mutter every time they met.

This "The Radiant Sanctuary" seems to be written by some sycophant, as most of it is just praise for the Eternal Light, with the only useful piece of information being the indication of a concept of levels.

In the Era of the Great Cataclysm, A-level beings were called ’Angels,’ who could draw near to Divine Beings, possessing seemingly endless long lives, and carrying out the will of the Divine Beings on Earth.

It also mentioned an interesting concept: ’Angels’ lacked humanity. They were essentially indescribable monsters, driven by Divine Beings.

Even if a person ascended to become an Angel, they would rapidly transform into an indescribable ’terrestrial angel.’

Yet the captain of Dawn City’s army is A-level and has maintained human form.

If the rules for Transcendents haven’t changed over the past few hundred years, then it must be that people from the Era of the Great Cataclysm had not fully figured out some specific rules.

He Ao thought of the murmurs he heard beside his ear when ascending to C-level; considering the power gap between C-level and B-level, perhaps the ’contamination’ and murmurs received at B-level would be stronger.

By extension, A-levels might not lack humanity, but rather they are unable to retain their humanity; perhaps the madness they need to face far exceeds that of B-levels and C-levels below them. If they fail to resist, they will transform into indescribable ’terrestrial angels.’

He Ao placed the book he was holding onto the faraway ground.

If his conjecture is correct, maybe there were A-levels with strong willpower during the Era of the Great Cataclysm who resisted the contamination and maintained their humanity. If so, where are these ’angels’ now?

He Ao then flipped open the following books.

The contamination of these books was already very low, and they contained nothing particularly important. After flipping through a few, He Ao tossed them onto the faraway ground.

Then he gazed at the bookshelf in front of him.

The level of contamination of this bookshelf was now very low.

The bookshelf appeared mundane, merely filled with books about Divine Beings.

But in fact, its interior was constructed of supernatural materials that formed some kind of Ritual Array. If He Ao forcibly broke the bookshelf, the array would trigger the power of all the books on the shelf, directing all the contamination to assault He Ao.

A bit of contamination from other Divine Beings could help He Ao protect his consciousness when resisting the contamination from another Divine Being, like a rock that appears in a flood that one might grasp for support. Cleverly using the strength of the rock, one could weather the turbulent flow.

But a massive jumble of contamination surging together would be akin to He Ao facing a chaotic mudslide.

Someone utilized the contamination from the Divine Beings in these books, through this bookshelf, to create a ’contamination barrier’ to prevent others from destroying the bookshelf.

If this mixture of contamination were truly triggered, it might leave even a B-level seriously injured.

Even though He Ao’s soul had strong resistance to corruption, his body was still that of a normal person like Nell. Such an onslaught would leave him severely impaired and there would be no subsequent events.

He Ao noticed something off about this bookshelf; although he lacked the extensive knowledge of mysticism needed to decipher this Ritual Array, he could directly use Divine Sense to "cheat" and observe the energy flow circuit of the array, thereby guessing its specific effects.

However, this consumed some Divine Sense.

The method to resolve this ’contamination barrier’ was simple: remove the books from the shelf one by one.

But as soon as one touches these contaminated books, one would be afflicted with the corruption.

In fact, this situation was an unsolvable predicament; whoever attempted to break it would inevitably suffer corruption. An average C-level might not even survive the "The Radiant Sanctuary," let alone "The Origin of the Great Storm" or the even stronger "Reaper’s Notes."

Even a B-level touching "The Origin of the Great Storm" and "Reaper’s Notes" would suffer a setback, their combat power reduced.

However, this setup had little effect on He Ao; his resistance to divine contamination was slightly higher than that of an ordinary person.

He also managed to freeload a wave of knowledge in the process.

After all, once he had the books in hand, he was bound to be contaminated. Having already taken them, it would be a great loss not to read them.

Although reading the books would result in additional contamination, it was within He Ao’s tolerance.

With the aid of Super Memory, reading didn’t take much time for him. Quantum reading, a flip, and everything was fully memorized.

Looking at the bookshelf in front of him.

He Ao gripped the short sword at his waist and drew it swiftly.

In the moment the red radiance flickered, the company directors behind him, like wax figures, suddenly turned their heads, staring intently at He Ao’s back.

Then, like arrows released from bowstrings, they burst forth, charging at He Ao in an attempt to impede his movements.

But the red sword gleam faced no hindrance.

This sharp sword light swept across the bodies of the company directors, and under the cover of splattering blood, it sliced through the huge bookshelf, the sharp blade effortlessly cutting it open.

As the sword light flashed one after another, He Ao carved a ’little door’ in the bookshelf before him, which then collapsed with a thunderous crash, revealing a vast empty space in front of He Ao.

So, given the area of this floor, there should be more than just a conference room.

He Ao cut down the last attacking director and stepped into the space hidden behind the conference room.

There should have been a puzzle mechanism in this bookshelf, but He Ao didn’t have the time to solve it.

He dealt with the executives on his way up, all while tightly managing his time.

Brute force wasn’t elegant, but it was very effective.

As He Ao entered, the first thing that caught his eye was a huge purple inverted triangle in the center of which was an open eye.

The lines that constructed this giant pattern were deep trenches, in which flowed a liquid as red as blood.

This liquid was drawn by an inexplicable force, babbling like a stream, with a faint purple glow hovering over all the liquid.

At the top of the pattern, the position farthest from He Ao, a beautiful woman with her eyes covered in black gauze sat at the edge of the trench.

Her white feet dipped into the flowing red, gently swaying, the jade-like ankles and the bands tied over them rippling in the purple light.

She slowly lifted her foot, ’looking’ towards He Ao. Her grey-black hair shifted down her shoulders as the bright red liquid flowed over her exquisite foot arches and fell into the flowing trench.

"Truth watches over all Its followers."

He Ao calmly looked at the woman’s face, which bore a hint of surprise, "After the Federation was established, the wizards abandoned their organizations and no longer used the symbol of the Eye of Truth. The former wizards partly became devotees of the God of Knowledge.

Some entered academia, while another portion carried the Eye of Truth with them."