"My vision seems to be fading, but nothing seems to be happening to me?"
She didn't know how long it had been before she felt her vision return. When Mei opened her eyes again, the brick houses on both sides of her seemed to become nothing more than a background. She felt that something had happened to her before.
"before? What am I thinking about?"
Mei had a certain feeling that something was wrong, but she quickly dismissed it.
What appeared before her seemed to be a banquet. Both distinguished "Gentlemen" and "Ladies" alike wore finely layered hanfu in shades of red, embroidered with intricate patterns that flowed along the fabric.
The banquet hall was lively, filled with the low murmur of conversation and the soft clink of cups against porcelain.
Rows of tables stretched across the room, neatly arranged and covered in red cloth. Dishes were placed with care—meat, vegetables, soups—each one prepared with attention, each one looking perfectly ordinary.
Servants moved quietly between the guests, refilling cups and replacing plates with practiced ease.
Everything was as it should be.
And yet—
No steam rose from the food. The dishes remained warm, but never cooled, never changed.
The guests ate and drank, but the amount on the plates never seemed to lessen.
Laughter came and went, rising at the right moments—but no one could quite tell who had laughed. Faces were clear when looked at directly, but the moment one looked away—
it became difficult to remember what they had seen.
A gentleman raised his cup in greeting.
It was a perfectly natural gesture.
Measured.
Polite.
He held it there—just a moment too long.
As if waiting for something that had already passed.
Everything was proper. Everything was orderly.
And yet—
nothing felt alive.
The dirt road beneath her feet became a road paved with red bricks.
"Oh! I almost forgot—today's main theme is red."
Themes always changed from time to time, depending on the host's preference. This time, the host seemed to favor a banquet.
Mei adjusted her clothes. Her ill-fitting suit and skirt had somehow changed into a layered red evening gown of silk and satin, its fitted bodice and full skirt shaped with careful precision.
Green lace, ribbons, and fine embroidery adorned the fabric, while gloves and delicate green jewelry completed the look—something reminiscent of a Victorian-era dress. In the corner of her eye, a lady in green seemed to offer her greeting before disappearing.
She walked along the street, filled with people who seemed oblivious to everything.
The style of the clothing had changed completely from what she remembered, yet she did not question it. It was a matter of course—everything should match the theme.
Because once the invitation is given, we always arrive—across time, across place, even across eras.
More and more people began to appear, dressed in the same way as she was. She had a feeling that they were all of the same kind. When we arriving within another's domain, one should respect the host and dress in the same way.
But this time—
something was different.
Why should they?
A "Royalty" had already graced this place with their presence.
Matching the theme in color alone was already more than enough respect they could offer.
In this old, false, and backward civilization—
a red sky and gray fog. What a wonderful day.
At the banquet, there were many silhouettes of what seemed to be "people," yet she knew none of them were within her circle.
She walked, following her sense, until she met them.
"A pleasure to meet you, Mr. [———] and Madame [———]."
As she greeted them, a gentleman dressed in a tailored red suit with a neatly knotted black cravat, and a lady adorned in a red dress with a finely cut amber pendant—its warm hue resting elegantly against her collarbone—stood before her. It seemed that was the only piece of jewelry she wore.
She extended her hand forward, the mark of Desolation visible upon it.
Both of their faces were obscured by mist—white and amber. She did not question it, because the colors themselves represented their meaning.
"Ah—my apologies for not noticing you sooner, esteemed Lady [———].Your presence is most delightful."
As the man knelt down and kissed her hand, the woman also offered her greeting.
As she looked around, she saw more of her kind gather in front of her.
No—
it should be that she, along with the two before her, stood before them as they gathered around the village center.
"Welcome… to the Bloodshed Banquet."
In front of Mei was a mass of flesh and blood—organs tangled together without order.
Countless blood vessels spread across it, pulsing and branching in unnatural patterns, some too thick, others too thin, weaving over and into one another like a living knot.
The surface twitched faintly, as if it were breathing—
or trying to.
Fragments of muscle shifted beneath the slick, uneven surface, while exposed tissue glistened wetly, reflecting a dull, dark red sheen.
There was no clear shape.
No structure.
Only a forced gathering of parts that did not belong together—
Then, it transformed before her eyes.
No—it was not that it changed.
It was because of her that it began to take a form she could understand.
In her eyes stood a man covered in scars, clad in golden armor, with a spear in his hand. A radiant blood-red aura spread all around him, like an invitation.
His aura felt familiar—
like she had seen it before.
But she could not remember why.
If it were anyone else—even someone with better perception than her—they would only see a mess of colorful mist tangled everywhere, with red fog covering everything.
Only in Mei's eyes did those things appear to have solid, human characteristics.
The red aura grew thicker and thicker. Something seemed to be happening in her surroundings, but Mei didn't seem to care.
She knew only one thing—
the grand performance of this banquet, the very reason they were here—
had finally begun.
—
"Shi Da, come and help me in the forge!"
Wang Da shouted from inside, as Mei—who normally helped him with this work—was not there.
"Yes, Father! Also—Father, did you hear? That neighbor kid, the son of our village hunter, was running around shouting that he saw a white bear in the forest near the northern passage!"
As Shi Da ran inside, his mouth seemed unable to stop, spouting all kinds of news and rumors he had heard throughout the day.
"What do you know about a white bear? Hah! Those only exist deep in the northern high mountains—the land of the barbarians."
North of the village bordered the frozen lands, where snow never ceased. Those regions were filled with barbarian tribes. Two hundred years ago, the barbarians continually raided villages across the border, until the kingdom led an expedition to drive them out of the emperor's land.
Since then, the barbarians had become nothing more than a myth.
"But his father gathered our village hunters to scout the forest. If it's real, they'll hunt it and sell it to passing caravans. I heard this kind of thing is very expensive among the nobles in the capital."
As they started working, there seemed to be a commotion outside the forge.
"Wang Da!!—"
Someone shouted from outside.
"What?! Why are you shouting—what happened?!"
As soon as Wang Da stepped out of the forge, he saw the village elder calling everyone to gather.
"The hunter team—all twenty of them—are dead. Only three survived. The village elder wants everyone to gather at the village center," the neighbor who lived next door said.
"Shi Da, don't come out. Stay with your mother."
Wang Da said as he followed the crowd toward the village center.
"The myth is real—it's a band of barbarians, numbering around three hundred. They've appeared again."
As soon as Wang Da entered the area around the village center, he heard shouting everywhere.
At the center, the wounded hunters recounted what had happened.
As Wang Da listened, his face began to darken—not just his, but everyone's.
Even if they panicked now— it was already too late.
Even if they could not see them yet, the barbarians would not be far behind.
In other words—
they had, at most, fifteen minutes to prepare for battle.
As for surrender?
Killing the hunters without capturing a single one—
had already sent a clear enough message.
"Wang Shi! Take Shi Da and Mei—run away, hurry!!"
Wang Da shouted as he rushed back into the forge, arming himself with a spear and leather armor while quickly explaining what had happened.
"But where could we go?"
"East—the river. Find a boat and go south!"
As Wang Da said that—
a low horn echoed across the village—
Bwoooooom—
Deep. Heavy.
"How can it be that fast?! It hasn't even been five minutes yet! Get out—run away!!" Wang Da urged.
"What about Mei?!" Wang Shi asked in a worried tone.
"We don't have time."
Wang Da said it as if he had already made his choice.
What the hunters had found in the forest were only ordinary barbarians traveling on foot.
But what had arrived here—were the elite of the elite.
The Wolf Cavalry of the Wolf Tribe. A hundred strong.
—
On the high mountain passage to the north of the village, not far away, a tall and rugged man sat atop a massive wolf. He wore white bear fur, with an axe hanging at his waist.
"Two hundred years ago, they drove us away. Two hundred years later, the court is embroiled in internal conflict."
"This is our chance to make our appearance again."
He was Lang Hu—Wolf Fang, chieftain of the Wolf Tribe and its shaman, leading the vanguard under the united northern banner.
"Yes. This time, we will take their territory as well. Our tribe needs food."
Lang He, the flag bearer and younger brother of Lang Hu, spoke.
Two hundred years ago, barbarians originating from the north discovered a passage that led south, bringing them into contact with the kingdom and its court.
After their initial raids, the people of the south near the border barely counted as obstacles. As the looting rampaged on, more and more tribes joined, until the scale of the conflict grew large enough that the court dispatched the imperial army.
The barbarians, after a succession of victories, became arrogant and chose to engage the imperial army in a direct confrontation.
They suffered a disastrous defeat.
Driven back in droves, with many dead, their population dwindled severely.
Even the harsh lands of the north, once sufficient to sustain them, could no longer support what remained of their tribes. Now, as their numbers began to grow again, food became a problem once more.
They needed a solution.
After discussions among the various tribes, they turned their fangs toward the south— toward the lands under the kingdom's jurisdiction, rich with fertile soil.
—
The band of barbarians, riding on massive white wolves, poured into the village—
"Kill everyone for the glory of the ancestor"
barbarian lead by twin lead of Wolf tribe start to massacre the villager leave no one alive,
they burn and looting everything the lie upon their way
The village's weapons could not even leave a scratch on them.
"They are martial artists. Run—we can't stop them!"
With a single swing, one could cleave through iron. With a single punch, one could shatter rock. The ground trembled beneath them, and their skin was like armor.
That was right—the Wolf Cavalry could be considered martial artists, in the kingdom's terms.
Wang Shi, along with Shi Da, ran through the forest toward the east, heading for the river.
Screams echoed all around them as they were chased by the Wolf Cavalry.
"Shi Da! Run to the east—to the river!!"
Wang Shi shouted as she was stabbed from behind by a spear.
Shi Da could not think. He could only run—and run. He did not know how long he had been running, but in front of him appeared a surging river.
With no time to think—
he jumped.
…
Everyone was dead.
It seemed only he survived.
—
"Lang Hu, what's wrong?"
He seemed to see a little girl standing beside a man who looked ordinary. Both of them stood in the middle of the street, watching the massacre—but no one seemed to notice them.
The girl's eyes seemed vacant, indifferent to everything, it like she talking to someone or something.
He didn't know why, but even now, it was hard for him to focus on her.
She seemed to be wearing a dress—the surrounding area blurring. In his eyes, he saw a banquet hall, filled with an aura that made his stomach churn.
No.
She was wearing rough linen clothes, like the other villagers.
And this place was still the village. His mind began to reject what he saw—and what he remembered.
He felt like he had seen her wearing a dress.
Dress… what dress?
The feeling gave him a sense of wrongness.
Something inside him issued a warning—
not to remember any further.
As for the man—
As his eyes began to bleed, the only things that appeared in his mind were something incomprehensible:
a cheap suit, poorly fitted;unbranded jeans; and a black necktie.
"What?"
Coffee—
"What do you mean, coffee?! What is Coffee!
What does that even mean? What does it represent?!"
His mind was filled with incomprehensible information.
He knew what it was—but not what it meant.
Lang Hu's mind started to crumble, as his mind couldn't keep up with all this absurdity.
As for his face—
His face.
His face?
His face—
Ordinary.
Ordinary?
Ordinary.
"Nothing—NOTHING! There's nothing wrong! I just saw something ordinary… ordinary—ha… ha… that's right… ORDINARY! Of course, as it should be—how can there be something wrong?!"
Even as he shouted like that, he felt something beginning to slip away from his mind.
Not to mention— no one seemed to notice that his eyes were bleeding.
Not even himself.
Lang He watched Lang Hu with concern, but he didn't know what was wrong with Lang Hu. He knew something must have happened, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it.
—
At a certain café—
If Mei were here, she would recognize it as the same one she had seen before.
An ordinary man sat inside, seeming deep in thought, quietly talking to himself.
"Both actor and actress have taken the stage. Supporting roles are beginning to appear, and the main character is taking the center."
A collision of both director and story.
"So that's why something guided me to choose an Actor. In terms of existence, I might be below "Him"—but in status, I am equal to "Him"."
"I have the right to be a Director. But once I become an actor, I will fall under "Him"."
"That's right. Even though [Temple of Ascension: System] tells me the purpose and story of [Invincible Dao Heart Immortal-Seeker] Performance, but that is not my requirement, I'm not under his script. This is my performance—for my first [Title]."
"[Invincible Dao Heart Immortal-Seeker] is my patron—not because I serve Him, but because I inserted myself into "Him" story."
By doing so, "Him" was forced to become his patron. And it also seems… this is the first time something like this has ever happened to "Him" as well.
If he were to fall under "Him", it would affect his [Title] acquisition. His true self would be fine—but the actions themselves would be affected.
As for why he dared to think of all this—
The term [Immortal] represents status, power—[Title]. It is not something to be spoken lightly.
That is why "Him" is only a [Seeker]—one who seeks the path to break through and become [Immortal].
"[Seeker] is nothing more than mortal in the eyes of [Immortal]."
"There is no in-between.Either you are—or you are not."
"[Seekers] have their own needs. Emotions. Worldly attachments and possessions."
"And this performance… such a niche and outdated genre, and Intern Level 1 at that. No wonder
[Temple of Ascension: System] chose this for me."
It can only become something quick and cheap—entertainment for easy gain. It can never attract [Immortals]. But why has it become a co-director performance…? Perhaps it has something to do with him.
"What have they not seen already?"
"What would be interesting…? The concept of two Directors clashing—chaos, unpredictability… something truly engaging."
"Or perhaps… mixing multiple concepts and genres together—enough to confuse, to arouse curiosity—so that they can never predict the result."
"After all, belief and path are merely a bonus. What [Immortals] care about… is the story itself."
…
[World Blessing][Title]
His thoughts became clearer, and he was finally able to think through all of this.
It seemed his second [Title] had finally stabilized him. The erosion of his alias was slowing, and his humanity was beginning to return.
What is a [Title]?
It is something that refers to one's feats—something that represents actions acknowledged by enough people that they become accepted.
"In other words… to make people—or the world itself—remember me."
"Remember my feats."
"Remember my actions."
Then what does an empty [Title] represent?
It represents the original—the accumulation of experience that shapes what one becomes, unaffected by external influences, it offers nothing—no power, no authority. but it self are The purest and truest form of a one being.
As he appeared beside Mei in his spiritual form, he found himself within the banquet, beside her.
But unlike before, even this time—none of them seemed to notice him.
As for what was happening outside—
he didn't care.
Black and amber arrived together, and then came green, the third. But where was the second? Of course—because it was no longer here.
"Ah… the perfect portrayal of destruction."
Death and barrenness came first—then came restoration, third, leaving no room for despair to linger.
And its meaning was, of course—
No one survived except the Actors themselves.
Perhaps it was time for him to step up his performance as well.
—
[System: Third-Party Authority Rejected]
[System: Returning to Default]
In front of Mei's eyes, lines of text appeared once more.
But this time—
something was different.
They were no longer light or distant.
The words became ethereal—yet heavy, dense, as if they carried weight beyond meaning.
A pressure descended upon her.
An instinct—
to kneel.
To kowtow.
The lines shifted.
Rearranging.
Rewriting themselves.
It had returned to its rightful owner.