I walk forward, but 3030 speaks behind me:

"I understand your helplessness. The fault lies with that selfish researcher, not with you. Whether you choose to preserve the Nine Serenities or abandon it, neither is wrong. Success is never certain."

"I will not leave the Nine Serenities. I will guard this uninhabited island for a millennium, using the limited authority I have."

"I will be a good security guard for the Nine Serenities, keeping an eye on the mechanics. Don't worry."

His voice fades away, filled with a sense of responsibility that I am familiar with.

The world is kind to us.

Let us feel the weight on our shoulders and the mission of our lives when we are not yet old... when we are in the prime of life. '3030' is like this, so is 'Su Ming'an'.

I stride forward, feeling the warmth of the voice on my back, as if a blazing fire is burning behind me.

My fingers brush past my lips.

Sensing the slight curve at the corner of my mouth.

...

After that, I went to many places.

The world is still noisy. Faith, war, history... The deities give orders from on high, and millions of humans rush to serve them. Yet just as many people refuse to listen and try to find traces of the old gods.

Gunfire, death, and urgent cries flit past my ears. Sometimes when I enter cities, soldiers hand me military recruitment flyers. They print a lot of these papers and distribute them to every passerby. The wording on the papers is passionate, with outlines of the old gods faintly visible, as if joining the army would summon their presence and grant supreme happiness.

"Who called you to enlist?" I casually ask.

The sixteen or seventeen-year-old soldier smiles, his face covered in dirt, revealing his white teeth: "It was the angel under the old god's command! As long as we fight with the angel, we can reincarnate after death!"

... Is that so.

I don't know which principal used the myth to add the title 'Angel' for themselves, simply aiming for legitimacy. I also don't know what this principal's specific thoughts are; it has nothing to do with me.

To prevent anyone from being bewildered by Dieying, we principals generally do not contact each other since the millennium plan began. Now I just want to find a suitable place to establish The Republic.

"... Are you interested in joining the old god's army? We can introduce you, and maybe you will have a chance to meet the angel and receive blessings." The soldier is full of devotion, his hands clasped together.

"I am also an angel," I say.

In this sense, I am also an Order Angel. The myth I crafted, yet worshipped by others as a sacred text. So, this is what faith is like.

The sixteen or seventeen-year-old soldier gazes at me blankly; I smile and hand back the flyer, then leave.

"The angel" stands right before their eyes, yet people cannot recognize me. Before the millennium plan began, I often reported scientific research results on television, but just eight or nine years later, people no longer recognize me. Perhaps in decades, they won't even remember the concept of the "millennium plan"—such is the destructive nature of erasing history.

Nothing will be remembered.

Nothing will remain.

...

Later, I went to many places.

I have been to mountains and fields, caught the liveliest fish, hunted the fastest deer. I have ventured into forests not yet reduced to steel and listened to the Nightingale's singing. The Nightingales are still active on this heated land, and they can still sing with elegant tones.

I have always been searching for a suitable place to establish The Republic, so that one day Xia Jiawen can have a home to return to, and the new generation of children he saved can have a foothold. So that one day poverty and disease will not occur on the land.

During the long travels, I saw many people and events... mothers desperately shielding children under gunfire, elders carrying the bodies of their children, young people running across battlefields with sketch paper, kind people serving porridge, bands of mercenaries passing by, new kings delivering speeches atop city walls...

The world has completely changed shape, like a train speeding toward an unknowable direction.

This has given me a sense of novelty.

As if a ship is sailing in an unknown sea. While I sail alone on the sea, without feeling joy or sorrow, nor obtaining happiness.

Most infrastructures have failed, so I measure the land with my own feet. Over fifty years, I have walked through one-tenth of the world, covering exactly 112,817 regions, cities, kingdoms—I've been to them all.

Many people have heard of a man in the world, wearing a cross necklace on his chest, undertaking a long journey that has spanned decades. Everywhere he has visited, benevolence follows, whether it be piles of bread, clean water, or vaccines and medicine. Gradually, rumors have emerged, claiming that the black-haired man is the incarnation of the Order Angel. The Order Angel travels the world with pure goodwill, bringing warmth and love to the people.

I do not affirm or deny it.

Every time I see their devout expressions, watch as they bow and kneel to me, I feel a sense of unreality… Is there really a 'god' in this world? Could the 'old gods' of the past also be products of rumor and worship, perhaps just as human as anyone else?

I do not know.

My journey continues on.

It is the 56th year of the Heavenly Era, fifty-six years since that disaster, and I haven't seen Xia Jiawen, nor have I found a suitable place to establish The Republic.

My appearance remains youthful, as if I am neither aging nor dying. Yet, I am gradually feeling my legs, which have traveled for fifty-six years, become weary, and my spirit grow tired. Sometimes, I sit in the dusk for a long time.

Longevity.

Human lifespan.

It dawned on me when the first strand of black hair started to fall. I looked at the black hair in my hand in surprise, as if looking at a suddenly withered old tree.

Clearly, my hair still has a shiny black hue, just like a young person, with no wrinkles on my face. The Word Spirit has kept my youth well. But signs have begun to emerge throughout my body—you don't have much time left.

The overwhelming fatigue, like a tide, begins to enclose me... an inescapable suffocating feeling.

From the age of twenty-four, when I started traveling, I have already passed through fifty-six years, which is the limit of lifespan for most humans. Moreover, my travels were not stable; I shielded civilians from stray bullets, delved alone into the Black Mist. In my youth, I did too many righteous deeds... it can only end here.

After all, I am human, not a true angel. Deities can span millions of years; Dieying can covet for eons, but no matter how hard I try, it's only a mere century.

I watched the black hair in my hand and was silent for an entire afternoon.

"... The flowers have fallen."

The old tree outside the window had shed its last leaf.

...

I began to take action.

I buried The Republic in the unvisited deep mountains and forests, hid the one-twentieth written "Rule Book" in a desert akin to a life forbidden zone, converted all the wealth I accumulated over the years into food to distribute to refugees, and lastly, found a peaceful small town.

As the setting sun slants, the evening breeze lifts my shiny black hair; I stroke my face smooth as ever and suddenly laugh, just like when I was young.

... This world is not boring after all.

I have felt the interest in this life.

The decision I made at twenty-four, I do not regret. Perhaps now Xia Jiawen has already adopted a large number of children, surrounded by them, enjoying the happiness of family. Perhaps he has died before me, and now it is his reincarnation walking on earth.

Since that separation, the world has been too chaotic. For a full fifty-six years, we have not been in contact, but I know he will never forget the initial promise.

... Has he gone to meet Lin Yawen now?

I watched the sunset spread across the mountains, lying on a rocking chair, and slowly fed all the knowledge, research technologies, and data in my mind into a computer.

In my lifetime, without wife or children, I walked the world in the name of the "Order Angel," saving 2,039,100 civilians. As my natural life nears its end, I found an orphan. He had no father or mother, worshiped the Order Angel for a long time. When he saw me, his face was full of excitement and joy, mouthing prayers to the Order Angel.

I then asked him:

"Would you be willing to follow me for three months?"

In awe, he immediately agreed.

I evaluated him for three months to ensure he was a qualified heir, and then asked about his willingness. He agreed to become my reincarnation, to inherit my Life Hard Drive, even if he would no longer be himself.

Regarding the question, "Does reincarnation count as oneself?" I've never gotten an answer, but now I can finally experience it firsthand and see if my consciousness can be transplanted with the Life Hard Drive. Death, to me, is not terrifying but merely an unresolved research question.

That day, sitting under the parasol tree that had shed all its leaves, the rocking chair swayed gently. The young man massaged my shoulders and legs, even though I appeared younger than him.

My gaze fell on the door, where a streak of dry orange sunlight lingered, people coming and going, no one stopping there.

"... Teacher, who are you waiting for?" he asked me.

... Is my expression that obvious?

Maybe it's because I intentionally chose someone similar to me, young people can always see through my thoughts.

I said softly, "An old acquaintance."

He was tactful and didn't ask who the old acquaintance was.

I waited a long time, but no one appeared at the door.

The sensations throughout my body grew stronger, and I — the one who mastered a myriad of Word Spirits — knew clearly, the moment was near.

Humans, oh humans.

... Why can you only live for a mere century?

The twelve talented and exceedingly wise Principals of my generation... most are no longer in this world, even if alive, they are likely in their twilight years with white hair. Even if the world favors them and golden flames melt, it's but ephemeral, failing to cross a tenth of time.

"What does death feel like?" I asked softly.

Faced with the inevitable, I surprisingly felt a bit of fear.

The young man combed my smooth, black hair.

"Silent, teacher. I heard those elders who naturally pass at one hundred years old die quietly."

"Not painful?"

"I don't know, teacher. But you are an Angel, Angels simply return home, you'll reincarnate, then I'll be you, you won't feel pain."

The young man looked at me reverentially. In everyone's eyes, my passing was merely the return of an Angel, soon to ascend the skies — only I knew, my death was merely a human death, indistinguishable from most others.

... Silly child.

Faith has already become so firm.

"Your physique isn't as strong as mine, so don't get too involved in wars in the future, focus on building The Republic, okay?" I advised.

"Yes, teacher."

"In a thousand years, the Old God will be born with you, you must cultivate the Old God's vessel well, don't have any weakness, no matter how much you like that vessel. Understand?"

"Yes, teacher."

"I don't know how long your lifespan will be, but it surely won't exceed a century. So... you must also, like me, timely seek reincarnation, take care of yourself, understand?"

Perhaps advancing in years truly brings chatter, I spoke many words.

I saw the young man's eyes gradually glistening, he was reluctant to let me go.

"... Don't be afraid." Thus, I said.

... This was the first time in these eighty years I consoled someone like this.

His mouth moved, tears slipped down his cheeks. I suddenly felt a silence around me, straining to comprehend what he was saying, he seemed to express reluctance.

...

[Teacher, don't go...]

That's his lip movement.

...

... Turns out I couldn't hear sounds anymore.

Next was vision.

My sight suddenly turned black, the warm sunlight was no longer visible.

The fence by the door now short, won't await the person I wished to see.

In this moment, I realized the arrival of the critical point.

... Xia Jiawen, I can't hand you the trousers in hand anymore. But more than fifty years have passed, if you've gained weight, you probably wouldn't fit them anyway.

... In the next life, if fate allows... do not forget your promise, do not forget to come find me in The Republic...

As vision disappeared last, I saw the astonishment on the young man's face... and the evening breeze rising, sweeping across my hair, past my eyes.

White.

In the final moment, all the Word Spirits lost their effect, I reverted to the appearance of an old man. I never revoked the Word Spirits maintaining youthful looks, so I don't really know how I look now.

... Probably not very appealing, full of white hair, full of wrinkles, no different from most elders departing this world.

I placed a white morning glory flower on my chest, gently closing my eyes in the warm afternoon sunlight. At this moment, I suddenly understood why Xia Jiawen chose to hold a white morning glory flower in the end; it is often the murmur of the departed, making the moment of passing less lonely.

Death may indeed be quiet and soundless.

I couldn't hear any sound, nor see anything, only feeling everything slowly leaving me. After sailing for eighty years, mastering countless Word Spirits, I have reached my end.

But the resolve in my heart remains clear...

...

— I still sail the seas, neither joyous nor blissful.

The journey barely a tenth complete, I will disembark, but the new Captain with my face will continue to set sail, steer the vessel, seeking treasures in the ocean, fulfilling the dream of a thousand years.

If there are icebergs, collide with them. If there are sea sharks, fear not.

Just the years are long, generations carry on, generations traverse.

I have passed, but "Li Mingyue" is eternal.

— Until a thousand years later, "I" am still in this bustling human world, singing the thoughts of the Old Gods, entrusting the rise of The Republic.

Thus it is,

thus it is.

Countless blessings,

countless blessings.

...

— Welcome back to this beautiful world.

0002 - "Li Mingyue".

...

...

A thousand years later.

The sunlight was bright, the crowd bustling.

By the fountain in Dao Ya City, white pigeons perched.

"Godfather, how should this bread be divided..." The young man with black hair and black eyes asked me.

I smiled a little, teaching him hand in hand: "... This line is the division of portion. Each person gets a small bag. Each bag should have two pieces of bread, about the same size, take a closer look."

The white pigeons fluttered and flew away, the crowd surged.

The Old God bowed its head, tearing apart the bread, as if nothing more than an ordinary person in this world.

...

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