Cold, ruthless, lacking in resonance, immortal.

I don't always do it this way.

For as long as I can remember, this abyss has been like a pot of witch's potion.

Boiling, chaotic, rolling in a vacuum with an unreal stench

At that time, there was neither heaven nor earth, nor any living beings.

The shadow of the dragon's wings has not yet arrived, the Titan's blades have not been sharp, and the schemes of the MONOCULUS are still in the womb.

It is a world without joys and sorrows, without the warmth and coldness of the world, neither empty nor complete.

There was no reason for me to come, I came to this world without choice.

There is no common sense, there is no knowledge, there is no loss, there is no gain.

I can't remember what I was like at the time, and I don't care what the witch cauldron that surrounds me means.

I don't know the beauty and ugliness, and I don't distinguish between light and dark.

We can't even tell whether what exists with us is our own compatriot or not.

I don't have a name, I don't have everything, I don't have me.

Later generations just call me 'quality', so let's call it that.

A few years later, when people think that we are high, mysterious, and live with the heavens, they think that we are higher beings than the gods.

And I know very well that after the false eternity, there is nothing.

In my long years, less than one in a trillion dollars of time would have been called 'meaningful'.

If the dust is majestic, the lonely life is not clear.

Until that day comes.

The sharp blade of the god slashed through the starry sky, and the existence of six porcelain muscles and jade bones was born from the chaos.

From that moment on, the witch's cauldron was overturned.

The bottom of the pot was quickly poured clean, and the universe became extremely dark, and everything was dark then.

"Xingyuan is in danger, who will go out if I don't go out!"

Six sharp blades were raised high, and the shining tips of the swords bloomed with the world's first star.

The boiling potions dried and cooled, and then for quite some time, they turned into stars.

When they chose to survive for the sake of this new universe, I didn't understand what they meant.

'Why fight?' Isn't it good to live in a dull way? ’

When I blinked, the heroes of the past had fallen into decay, and the war against foreign enemies had become a struggle for power.

'Why fight for power?' Anyway, it will be taken away by others. ’

By the time I thought about the answer, the temple of the gods had fallen, and they had turned into thousands of stars that continued to shine in the galaxy.

Why do you want to be a star? Can they stay quiet? ’

The world changed little by little, I don't know when, even I started to be changed by it.

'I am not separated from this starry sky, I exist alone. ’

By the time I realized this, I had already begun my wanderings in the universe.

Tens of billions of years? I don't remember exactly, but the abyss doesn't affect me, and it takes me a long time to realize that 'me' is 'me'.

I watched the sun die with old age, at first I didn't understand how its power was lost, I watched the sun and the stars die, and I felt that even mortal children would find it a boring experience.

I am curious about the universe.

When the witch's potion was overturned, the universe suddenly became distinct, and they were given various names, and a new era was ushered in by the Destroyer and the gods.

It should be said that this is a great move, like a lightning strike that brings fire to the beginning of life that begins to sprout underwater.

Even I didn't realize until a long time that this was a meaningful turning point.

But what is the significance?

In the years when I was wandering, there was no 'meaning' in 'meaning', civilization was just beginning, they didn't even have a sense of self, and even I had a hard time remembering what life and civilization did at the beginning.

I think they probably don't even know what they're going to do.

Even when civilizations have developed to a high level, most of them cannot escape the fate of destruction.

'Significance'?

For a long time, I thought that there was no such thing as meaning, that life was just a cycle.

They're too small.

I spread my body, my beard and tail, and do nothing, I can destroy the inheritance of several generations of them.

They are too ephemeral.

I used to stand on the seashore with sampans, and the fisherman claimed to hunt a beluga whale.

I was thinking about where I was going next, and there was a mortal being who was attracted to my looks, richly dressed, reciting sonnets and singing love songs in my ear.

By the time I made up my mind and turned around to talk, the world was frozen in ice.

His civilization seems to have been destroyed in a nuclear war.

For me, it was just a brief trance.

They are too short-sighted.

There was once a warrior who confidently claimed that he had established an eternal dynasty and that the worst of his enemies had been defeated.

I watched as after his death, the kingdom collapsed, his descendants fought for power, the warlords fought each other, and the people were devastated.

Then with the new regime came to power, a gentleman in a suit claimed that they had built the freest and most enlightened country, and that the old order was gone.

I watched them degenerate from noble sages to plutocrats who amassed too much money, the industrious people became lazy, and the intellectuals became sloppy courtiers.

So it all started from scratch.

Again and again, and again and again.

Whenever I feel that history is predestined, there will always be people who don't know whether to live or die to stand up.

"What a joke! History has never changed? ”

They shouted:

"If history had stood still, the sun would not have set and darkness would not have come!"

Regardless of race, regardless of civilization.

I've told all kinds of people: history is just a cycle, and whatever you do, it's just a rolling cycle like a wheel.

"Loop? Rolling is moving forward! ”

They always scoffed at my vision.

"If history never changes, if all struggles are meaningless, then the sky should not be dark, and countless tragedies will not be staged."

The book is full of blood, devotes itself to the horse, and then becomes an insignificant ink mark in this grand narrative.

From then on, I suddenly realized that 'meaning' is 'meaningless'.

Their lives are too short to write epics.

- So they write books and pass on the torch.

They are too weak in their lives to change course.

- So they teach by example and change the technology.

They were too hasty in their lives to do everything in the world.

- So they play their talents, specialize in this to the extreme, and under the social division of labor, everyone does their part well.

In the cycle of meaningless nothingness, there are countless people who go forward and follow one another, and do everything for an ideal or a goal that is more ethereal than nothingness, a revolution, a war.

Are they stupid? Not necessarily, many of them have extremely high academic achievements.

Are they weak? Not necessarily, many of them scolded Fang Xuan on the battlefield.

So are they short-sighted? Not necessarily, many of them have been planning for a long time,

I asked them:

Do you know that you are just a faint speck of dust in the torrent of our times? You will not be remembered by history, and even history will be distorted in the universe. ’

In the feudal era, the rebellious slaves said in confusion:

"I don't know, but I want to live, to live as a free man."

In classical times, knights in armor shook their heads and said:

"Maybe so, but for the sake of honor and faith, I have to move forward."

In the industrial age, the citizens carrying steel guns smiled:

"We have nothing but this shackle, so why should we forget?"

In the age of space, the soldier in a heavy spacesuit was full of confidence and said firmly:

"You don't need history to know me, you don't need the years to remember me, the mountains will remember me, the sea will remember me, and everyone will be me from me onwards."

Time rolls forward, and the cycle never breaks.

I don't know if it's the small mortal thing or the eternal me who is stagnant.

The life of mortal things is too short, and the greatest regret is that they cannot write grand ideals.

I have lived too long, but I have never had their ideals.

After countless years, it has turned over various civilizations.

I have seen the collapse of great empires, and I have heard the cries of freedom and sorrow from poor tribes,

No matter what race, no matter what era, no matter what civilization.

From gods to mortals, from slaves to astronauts, from mortals to gods.

From the unrealistic fantasy of utopia to the practice of grand narratives.

In every age, there will be a group of such beings, who believe in tomorrow, believe in different things, believe that the sun will dispel the darkness.

The long night is always dispelled by the light, and then the shadow follows.

But they never tired of it.

For short-lived mortals, their lives are too short to see the inevitability of history, and they only struggle with the night in order to see hope.

In part, they are right.

(End of chapter)