Chapter 220: The Perfect Craft (Part 2)

Chapter 220: The Perfect Craft (Part 2)

Protagoras once said—man is the measure of all things.

From birth to death, in that long journey, no one could live entirely according to their own or others’ plans. At least, they couldn’t stick to it without any changes.

Many people believed they were good, and most people simply didn’t think of themselves as bad. In reality, when a person openly admitted they were a bad person and told everyone, “I am a bad person,” they actually weren’t that bad after all.

What truly caused extreme harm to someone rarely came from the extremely wicked ones; most of the time, it was caused by those who believed they were righteous and good.

It was a strange loop—when a good person did something bad without even knowing it, the destructive power was the most terrifying.

In reality, all judgments of good and bad came from the mouths of others. Some said those who killed were villains; some said those with evil intentions were bad people; others said everything in this world was evil.

Yet there was no real standard for true good or true evil; all measurements were based on the criteria set in another person’s or another group’s minds.

When a person reached a true height, right and wrong would become clear in their heart, but by then, that person could no longer be called human.

Therefore, as long as one hadn’t escaped the scope of being human, good and evil would have definitions and disputes—at least, there was a measure.

Siyuan believed that although he didn’t represent justice, he still stood on its side. But when he looked back at certain events now, he could no longer tell whether what he had done was truly good, or whether he was truly a good person.

This philosophical distress made him feel lost for a while. He sat at his desk all afternoon without moving, replaying causes and effects in his mind, yet he couldn’t sort out the relationships.

Like this Earth Spirit incident; when the data was placed on the table, he truly felt that even his hands were stained with more blood than any of the criminals he had pursued.

From the outbreak of the mutated Earth Spirit until now, nearly one hundred thousand people had died nationwide because of this event. This number far exceeded all the residents of that Small Town. And according to Second Master’s calculations, at least thirty to fifty thousand Transcenders had been lost or died in the spacetime rift, not to mention the indirect harm that followed.

The incident wasn’t over yet. Although the Special Cases Division had already identified the target, the Earth Spirit wasn’t easy to deal with, and casualties might continue to increase.

But the cause of all these deaths and injuries actually originated from Siyuan’s passionate and resolute pursuit of justice. In other words, Siyuan was directly or indirectly responsible for nearly two hundred thousand casualties—more than the toll of a full-scale war.

As for that shadowy figure, as for Zuo Mingxuan, the blood on their hands compared to Siyuan’s was just a negligible fraction. What was more frightening was that Siyuan was considered a good person, a law enforcer—not only was he not punished, but he was also treated as a hero, respected and applauded by people.

This wasn’t the result he wanted…

“Time to go. Those Transcenders are howling, wanting to hang out with you.”

Chen Ming pushed the door open without knocking, interrupting Siyuan’s philosophical contemplation, wearing a lecherous grin. “You’ve really made it, kid. You even learned how to take them out for eating, drinking, and whoring.”

Siyuan lowered his head and forced a difficult smile. “What else could I do to calm them down?”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Young Master Qi seems to be in a bad mood today.”

“Heh…” Siyuan didn’t say anything, just chuckled bitterly and handed the report in his hand to Chen Ming. Then he looked at him with tired eyes, silent.

“Oh my god… over one hundred thousand people.” Chen Ming’s face changed colors several times. “What’s going on here?”

“It’s all because of me…”

Chen Ming didn’t know how to comfort Siyuan, just pulled over a chair and sat down. “I don’t really have any good advice for you, but you need to understand one thing—Karma is the most unreliable thing in the world. We all know that where there’s a cause, there’s an effect, but you never know what that effect will be. If you keep going like this, I guarantee you’ll have a breakdown within three years.”

“What do you mean?”

“In our line of work,” Chen Ming’s eyes showed helplessness, “we can’t see the future, and we shouldn’t look into it… Ah, forget it. I’m bad with words. Later, I’ll take you to someone; he can probably explain it to you.”

Curious, Siyuan followed Chen Ming to the very depths of the Special Cases Division, to the outside of a room he had never seen opened before. No one ever mentioned it—it just stood there silently. He always thought it was just a storage room, not even a proper warehouse.

But after Chen Ming brought him there, he told Siyuan that someone lived inside…

“Someone lives here? I don’t know them?”

“Most people don’t.” Chen Ming laughed softly. “You’ll find out when you see him. Don’t piss your pants.”

After saying that, Chen Ming stepped back, pulled down the rolling shutter at the end of the corridor, locked it with three locks, and turned off the lights, as if afraid someone might peek.

“So mysterious?”

“This is the Special Cases Division’s number one secret.”

Then he placed his hand on the door, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. “Great Emperor, I’ve come to see you.”

It was truly magical—he didn’t even take out a key, but the door swung open at his words. Siyuan looked inside from outside and saw only darkness—completely lightless. Even his Heavenly Eye couldn’t make out what was in the room.

“Come in.”

Chen Ming led Siyuan into the room. The moment he stepped inside, Siyuan immediately sensed something different. Although the room was pitch black, being inside made him feel like he was in a vast grassland, with the sound of wind whistling in his ears, and his feet felt like they were treading on clouds.

“Great Emperor, the sun should rise.”

As Chen Ming spoke, something astonishing happened before Siyuan’s eyes. In the dark room, a star chart of the universe suddenly appeared, and then a sun slowly emerged from the darkness. The light from this sun allowed Siyuan to see where he was standing.

This wasn’t a room at all—it was clearly a universe! A thin, perhaps non-human, creature sat in the center, eyes closed like a mummy, but the bone spines on his body and the clearly visible blue light spots shone brightly.

“Great Emperor, this is Siyuan. The new kid.”

“This is Great Emperor, the Great Emperor of the Universe… that’s his nickname.”

Great Emperor of the Universe… Just the name sounded awesome, and judging by his appearance, he probably wasn’t too shabby either.

“Sunrise and sunset, yesterday’s flowers will still bloom this morning, but they are no longer yesterday’s flowers. The Cycle of Reincarnation of life, the alternation of old and new, life continues endlessly, death never ceases.”

The strange man slowly opened his eyes, looking at Siyuan with his lightbulb-like eyes. Siyuan only met his gaze for a moment before feeling like he had completely fallen into those eyes—deep and bottomless, impossible to tell what he was thinking.

“You look confused. Let me introduce Great Emperor to you.” Chen Ming lit a cigarette. “Great Emperor was found by the Special Cases Division. His identity is unknown. But he can create a world.”

“Create a world?”

“Here, look at his hands.”

Siyuan looked closely and saw a sphere floating in Great Emperor’s hands. The sphere looked exactly like a miniature globe, spinning constantly in his palm, while many other spheres of varying sizes rotated around him.

“This is…”

“Another world.” Chen Ming shrugged. “Broadened your horizons, didn’t it? Theoretically, this room we’re in now is the entire universe of that world. Isn’t it amazing?”

“Are there people on that planet too?”

“Yes, of course. There are people like you and me, and there are people who look up at the sky at night wondering if there are others like them in this world. They have their own joys and sorrows, loves and hatreds, just like us—birth, aging, sickness, death, and the Cycle of Reincarnation.”

“Is Great Emperor in charge of all this?”

“No, Great Emperor is just the creator and observer. He can’t interfere with anyone’s actions in that world; he just silently watches, observing.”

Siyuan moved closer to look at the sphere. It really had mountains, rivers, and cities on it—no different from the world he lived in.

“Don’t get too close. Great Emperor is very fragile. Even a three-year-old could kill him.” Chen Ming smiled. “We protect him here to protect another world equal to ours.”

“Why did you bring me here…?” Siyuan was a bit lost. Although he had broadened his horizons by coming here, it didn’t ease the distress in his heart.

“I’ll leave the rest of the time to you and Great Emperor. I’ll wait outside.”

Chen Ming left the room after speaking, leaving only Siyuan and the silently sitting Great Emperor in silence…

“Great Emperor… I…”

“I… have grown too old. So old that I’ve seen far too many stories.” Great Emperor slowly raised his head. “Your troubles are insignificant.”

“But… many people died because of me.”

“Death is not an end nor a beginning; it is merely a link in the story. Your guilt cannot bring back their lives, nor can it reclaim the past.” Great Emperor slowly lifted the sphere in his hand and placed it in front of Siyuan. “Learn to forgive yourself, forgive the world.”

Siyuan smiled bitterly. He truly didn’t understand what Great Emperor was saying. Every sentence felt strange—as if he was advising him, yet not quite.

“Great Emperor, then what should I do?”

“Everyone is changing the world. There is no supreme power in this world; no one is guilty, no one has merit, no evil, no justice. The world is as it should be.”

“Thank you. I’ll go now.”

Siyuan really didn’t understand. He turned and left the room. After he walked out, Chen Ming glanced at Siyuan and asked with a smile, “So? Any gains?”

“My horizons broadened, yeah. But no gains at all…” Siyuan shook his head. “I’m dumb…”

“Ah, forget it. Back then, Second Master talked with Great Emperor for three days and three nights and comprehended the super prophecy art. That year, Second Master was twenty-one.” Chen Ming patted Siyuan’s shoulder. “People have different aptitudes. Don’t be sad; it seems your comprehension isn’t great…”

“What can I do? I was never a genius anyway.” Siyuan suddenly laughed, hooking his arm around Chen Ming’s shoulder. “Come on, let’s go drink with those guys!”

Honestly, even though Siyuan didn’t understand what Great Emperor was saying, seeing someone care about him so much really lifted his spirits. Plus, Siyuan really enjoyed hanging out with those Transcenders. It felt comfortable and satisfying—like the camaraderie of the Liangshan heroes, really pleasant.

“Lately, I keep feeling like someone is watching me.”

While sitting at the dinner table, Siyuan suddenly blurted this out, then scratched his head. “Really, it feels weird.”

“You’re just too stressed. Stop thinking about it. Drink, drink!” Chen Ming’s face was flushed red as he poured a glass of wine for Siyuan, then pointed at Tyrannosaurus, who was about to grope the waitress. “You! Behave! If you cause trouble again, you’ll be stuck eating in the cafeteria from now on!”