Chapter 223: The Town You Can’t Return To

Chapter 223: The Town with No Turning Back

Constant Luck stiffly lifted her head, gazing at the reflection in the window, her pupils constricting sharply.

In the blurry reflection on the window, two figures were seen, one in front of the other, closely intertwined, like twin flowers blooming on the same branch. Its cool, long hair was entangled with hers, as if they could never be separated...

As she held her breath and observed the figure behind her, the woman clinging to her back slowly turned her head, like a doll with a rusty neck, staring straight at the window.

Her hair parted to the sides, revealing its ghastly pale face.

Due to the amber tint and blurriness of the resin window, Constant Luck still couldn't see its face clearly, but she could see its lips curling up at the corners, its bloodless mouth nearly touching her ear, whispering:

"Did... you... see... me...?"

Constant Luck instinctively waved her hand backward, but touched nothing.

If not for the icy breath that brushed past her ear like a breeze, Constant Luck would have almost thought it was just an illusion existing only in the reflection.

"Did... you... see... me...?"

Intimately pressing its face against hers, it repeated, its lips curving even higher, seemingly delighted.

Taking a deep breath, Constant Luck tried to calm herself down and called out to Feet of Time:

"Quick, check—there really isn't another figure behind you, is there?"

Feet of Time was stunned for a moment, then quickly reacted. Given Constant Luck's ability, if something was randomly targeting people, it certainly wouldn't choose her first.

This suggested that before the figure appeared on Constant Luck's back... a similar anomaly might have already occurred to Feet of Time, without his noticing.

The Feet of Time immediately lowered his head and carefully examined himself from head to toe, his gaze sweeping over every inch of the black robe and skin, checking every fold of the clothing, but found no abnormalities.

"It's impossible for there to be nothing wrong," the voice of Constant Luck trembled slightly, yet it was unusually calm and resolute. "Look again, more carefully!"

Upon closer inspection, the Feet of Time suddenly noticed: the fabric on his left shoulder was smooth, while the material on his right shoulder had several barely perceptible irregularities, as if it had been inadvertently crumpled...

He tried to smooth it out with his hand.

However, no matter how many times his fingers pressed over the creases, the fabric remained stubbornly indented in a strange and persistent manner.

The Feet of Time paused, a terrifying hypothesis forming in his mind, urging him to verify its truth—

He used his fingertips to slowly trace, caress, and outline the shape of the crease.

One, two, three, four...

The four creases were roughly equal in width and spacing, though their lengths varied.

With half of his hypothesis confirmed, the Feet of Time's fingertips trembled, as if scorched by a fierce flame. He suppressed the chilling sensation that made his scalp tingle and continued to move his fingers backward. Sure enough, next to the first crease, he felt another thick, short crease.

The Feet of Time realized what these creases were.

—More precisely, they were "finger marks."

—Someone, unseen, had their palm flat against his shoulder, pressing down with their fingers, silently and stealthily following behind him.

"I have confirmed it."

For the first time, the familiar words felt alien to the Feet of Time, forcing them out one syllable at a time, squeezing through his clenched teeth.

"… Someone is following me from behind."

Constant Luck said anxiously, "It must be the problem with the old district. The rules indicate that even special undertakers cannot stay here for more than 15 minutes. How long have we been here?"

The Ability user of the "Time" domain is always particularly sensitive to the passage of every second.

Feet of Time answered without hesitation, "7 minutes and 45 seconds." He clenched the water-drop-shaped spore cluster in his palm; if he tore it open, long spore threads would grow inside, guiding them to their companions, "Now, should we go back to meet up with the leader?"

"No," Constant Luck hesitated for a moment before making up her mind, "We need to continue exploring forward. This is the most efficient way to proceed."

Moreover, in terms of finding the way, her Ability might bring unexpected surprises at some point.

If they gave up on exploration now and wasted time looking for the leader, they might miss many opportunities!

"Alright… let's keep moving forward then."

Ahead lay the unknown, and behind them, the eerie figure that followed closely. At this moment, Feet of Time became unusually calm, even smiling slightly—though he knew his companion couldn't see his smile through the mask.

"You walk ahead, I'll watch out for your reflection in the windows."

Constant Luck shook her head, "Let's walk side by side. My luck won't be too bad no matter what, but yours isn't guaranteed. What if you suddenly disappear while walking behind me?"

Feet of Time responded and quickened his pace to walk alongside his companion.

Throughout the long and arduous training of the ascetics, as they passed through countless worlds and walked through countless dawns and dusks, they had always moved forward like this.

Side by side, with ghostly shadows faintly appearing behind them, they walked together into the lingering gray mist of the old district.

Jason and Spore Evolution operate as a team.

As the main body of numerous spores, Spore Evolution can clearly sense the position of the droplet-shaped spores, thereby keeping track of the movements of each group.

"Constant Luck has walked 532 meters in a direction 8° to the right of forward, and is still moving forward. It seems like this area of buildings has no end..." Spore Evolution frowned with concern.

Jason pondered for a moment, then suddenly asked, "When she reached the corner, did Constant Luck favor any particular direction?"

Logically, sufficient luck should guide Constant Luck towards the exit subconsciously... This is also an intangible indication of fate.

But after recalling, Spore Evolution lowered his head dejectedly, "No... She turned in each direction almost equally."

"Equally?"

Jason repeated, his tone laden with meaning, "Other Ability users might only choose directions randomly—but mid-to-high tier Fate domain Ability users are not included."

"Turning in all directions with equal probability is also a form of guidance..."

"Could it be that in the old city, whether turning left or right, the possibility of reaching the [Gate] is the same?"

Jason murmured to himself.

This complicates things.

Because it's highly possible that the single [Gate] doesn't have a fixed location, or even a specific form, but is merely a concept of 'leaving'...

An abstract concept of a 'gate' would be far more difficult to find than a physical door.

While thinking, Jason habitually split his focus, silently reciting passages from the *Holy Canon of Fate* that praise the Lord's power in his mind.

In long habit, this has become one of the pillars that sustain his sanity, so familiar with every character in the Holy Canon that he can recite them repeatedly without thought.

Merciful Lord, Jason thought, this time You will surely protect Your devout believer and let victory smile upon us.

—Just as it has countless times before.

When Jason was still a low-rank Ability user, he had heard of the fame of the King of Silver Serpents. Back then, he harbored admiration and awe, hoping that one day he could be like this legendary predator, burying countless terrifying, chaotic, and calamitous divine beings under blood and bone, walking towards a bright future.

Until one time, he was severely injured in a high-level dungeon and trapped inside a pyramid sealed by stone doors.

His overused Ability felt like a dried-up well, and his brain seemed pierced by long needles, bringing waves of unbearable pain that made it impossible for Jason to concentrate.

No one came to save him—not even he himself believed that anyone would reach out to him now, when he looked as pathetic as a dying, worthless stray dog on the roadside.

In the most desperate moment, an object emitting a phosphorescent glow fell into Jason’s vision, which was gradually blurring and filled with double images.

It turned out to be a mobile phone.

A phone thrown to him by a deity, like a lifeline.

"I can guide you to survival."

At that moment, Jason's eyes were soaked in his own blood, everything appearing with a crimson hue, except for the clear words on the phone screen that etched themselves into his retinas.

"And in return, may I ask..." He bit his tongue to help focus through the pain, speaking wearily and slowly, "What can I offer You?"

There was a pause, and new text appeared on the phone: "A story."

"Offer me an interesting horror story."

Through the screen, Jason found it difficult to discern the tone of the other party.

Was it indifferent, unconcerned with human recompense, or was it filled with compassion, gentle and kind like that of an elder?

To this day, Jason could not give a definitive answer.

He only knew that he had bought a life with just one story;

And for that life, he had made his choice without hesitation when the Destiny Pilgrimage was first established, dedicating everything to the gods.

Perhaps, the lifeline thrown to him by the gods had never been untied—always holding his wrist, leading him silently and devoutly down the path of fate, filled with the unknown.

At this moment, as Jason walked through the vast, lifeless black stone structures, he still murmured the prayer to the Lord in his heart.

This gave him a sense of safety and peace.

Just then, Jason abruptly stopped in his tracks—before his emerald eyes, a vast, silvery river seemed to appear, and amidst the roaring waters, a pair of golden eyes appeared to gaze at him.

Jason seemed to hear a sigh from the infinite distance.

“You can pray to me.”

Frozen in place, Jason’s eyes brightened, like a flame igniting in the silent green sea, radiating an incredible brilliance.

Lord... has He always been watching over them?

Jason then felt a bit timid, anxiously reflecting:

Had he not fulfilled the Lord's expectations well? Had he become a burden to the Lord?

At this moment, he felt that he was no longer a mature soul over a hundred years old, but truly just a clumsy youth, tongue-tied and unsure how to react.

Before Jason could speak, he heard the oracle, as if it had a physical form, weave into his mind, leaving behind a revelation:

"To have nothing is to leap beyond death."

The gaze of the divine silently dissipated, leaving Jason standing there in a daze.

"…Praise the Lord."

He pondered the oracle, and after a moment, lifted his eyes to gaze at the endless black stone houses.

Jason suddenly realized a question he had never considered before:

For the living to cross the boundary of the new district is to step into death;

And the dead here always try to return to the new district, to begin their next life—

The townspeople are forever trapped in a cycle, like little fish moving back and forth between two pools, confined to an unchanging landscape.

Their life paths form a circle.

But no one has ever tried… what lies beyond the boundary of death if one does not turn back and keeps moving forward?

"Direction doesn’t matter," Jason said softly, "as long as you keep walking to the end of death, you can leave this cycle of life and death."

Spore Evolution questioned, "But we’ve been walking for so long, and the old district seems to have no end…"

Jason thought for a moment, then raised his hand to remove the white mask with a sad face.

Leaving the protection of the mask, the aura of death surged up, and in just a few seconds, a thin layer of white frost condensed on his eyelashes.

"Leader!" exclaimed Spore Evolution.

Jason waved his hand and explained, "We can't leave because our identities are incorrect."

"In fact, the clues have always been clear. In the rules of this town, the importance of 'identity' is evident everywhere—each identity follows specific rules and performs corresponding tasks, an unshakable fundamental principle."

"The identity of the undertaker allows us to enter and temporarily stay in the old district safely, but it also means we are part of the town, participating in the cycle of life and death alongside ordinary residents and the deceased."

While these identities enjoy a life free from the worry of death, they are also trapped in this infinite yet limited cycle of life and death, with their activities confined to the two ends of the new and old districts.

To break this deadlock...

We must revert to the status of outsiders with nothing, then leap out.

Like fish jumping out of a small puddle, we must leap over the narrow boundary between life and death in the town before the aura of death and the spirits suffocate us.

—Thus spoke the god, “Only those who have nothing can leap over death.”