Messages

"To think I would stand before the Wall of Sighs a third time..." Weixi's sigh was ethereal, as if drifting from the distant past. Unfortunately, her face was brimming with smug pride that screamed, *Bet you never expected I'd be back,* thoroughly ruining any sense of historical gravitas. The sorcerers followed the torrent of dead souls to the Gate of Hell, gazing up in awe at this eternal curtain that sundered life and death. The closer they drew, the more ever-shifting the Gate of Hell appeared before their eyes. At times, it was an austere, heavy stone wall; at others, a gorgeously carved palace wall. One moment it resembled primitive cave paintings; the next, a modern steel fortress. It felt heavy enough to crush all beneath it, yet gentle as a mother's embrace. Colossal, chain-bound skeletal dragons soared within, stirring rippling waves of dark green light. The curtain billowed in their wake, rising high enough to blanket tens of millions of hectares. As it brushed past Yaxiu and the others, they felt no discomfort whatsoever; rather, it was as delightfully cool and refreshing as a summer evening breeze. "Corpse Prison Dragons." Weixi took the initiative to enlighten them: "They are a breed of dragon residing within the Gate of Hell, dabbling in the laws of death and hailed as the gatekeepers of Hell. As dead souls pass through the Gate of Hell, their dread of death becomes the wellspring fueling the Corpse Prison Dragons' 'Death Tremor,' while their yearning for life turns into thread for the dragons' 'Mausoleum Shroud.'" "All of Hell is an eternal factory refining dead souls into resources, and the Void Realm is the ultimate beneficiary." Weixi curled her lips. "Everyone does it this way, and if we want to survive in Hell from now on, we'll have to do the same." "Understood, understood." Yaxiu could naturally hear Weixi defending herself against grievances. Though he doubted she was even capable of feeling wronged, he still said, "I'm not so pedantic. If it's a necessary cost, I can accept it. It's just that my impression of you has always been so... I'm sorry, Weixi." Weixi glanced at him in surprise, then huffed. "If apologies were any use, half as many people would have died at my hands." Despite her retort, her mood clearly improved quite a bit, and her tone turned notably chirpy. "Look over there! That was my inscription from last time!" Everyone raised their heads and saw countless lines of writing carved across the floating curtain. Following the direction Weixi pointed, they spotted a line of text glowing with a faint blue light: *"You simply never had it; don't act as though you've lost it."* "Last time I advanced to demigod, I actually came close to summoning a god, but I couldn't hold on," Weixi said. "Back then, I felt bitter and indignant for a long time. Right here at the Gate of Hell, I pondered where I could have done better and what I could have optimized, thinking I had fallen short of a god by only a hair... It wasn't until I saw the inscription left by the Divine Lord of Stars that I woke up, abandoned the fantasy of perfection, and left those words behind to keep myself in check." "The Divine Lord of Stars?" "She is now the Supreme Star," Weixi said. "Which is why her message shines the brightest." Yaxiu looked toward the highest and most brilliant astral-blue inscription. Astonishingly, they were the exact words the Divine Lord of Stars had once spoken to him aboard the speeding train: *"Perfection has only ever existed in fantasy. Sorcerers who pursue perfection are like weeping children—fully aware that it is impossible, yet still wagering their hopes on tears."* "So this is a message wall for demigod sorcerers?" Weise murmured thoughtfully. Weixi nodded. "Everyone who enters Hell must pass through the Gate of Hell, and demigods are no exception. But the greatest difference between us and mortals is that we have conquered death—don't nitpick unnatural deaths with me—which gives us the right to leave a message on the Gate of Hell. "Those that are still glowing mean their authors are still alive, in whatever form that may be. Those that have gone dark mean the souls have completely dissipated, with not even the possibility of resurrection remaining." Apart from Weixi, everyone else hungrily read the Wall of Sighs. Weixi understood their feelings well. The first time she stood before this wall, she had spent several days reading, pondering the emotions of those who left the words, and imagining crossing paths with those whose glowing inscriptions remained... because sorcerers were simply too lonely. Even if they occasionally crossed paths, through the vast majority of the journey from the Knowledge Sea to Ruby Mountain, sorcerers trudged alone, braved hardships alone, fought crises alone, and shouldered their personal hells alone. Only after overcoming the Hell Trials and reaching this wall could they truly realize: so many sorcerers throughout the ages had walked this same journey, so many geniuses had reached the divine realm, and so many peers were waiting ahead. Even though they knew what awaited them beyond the Gate of Hell was a zero-sum contest of rivals, where every encounter would be a clash of blades and deceit, it did not diminish their moving sense of awe in this moment. Sorcerers were such contradictory creatures. They held the deepest reverence for the trailblazers who came before them, yet their very purpose was to shatter those pioneers' skulls to venture even farther. Most of the inscriptions offered encouragement: *"We are the champions!"* *"Mom, I did it. I stand at the pinnacle of sorcerers!"* *"Never abandon your kindness. Kindness is not power, but kindness requires power to uphold."* *"From this day forth, the Burdette clan shall take pride in me."* *"May we still smile when we reach the end of the road, with sunshine ever by our ears."* *"Rather than lament how hard the road is, better to set out at once."* There were also quite a few inspirational ones: *"Even a goblin can become a demigod!"* *"Even an orc can become a demigod!"* *"Even a Veela can become a demigod!"* *"Even a Lalafell can become a demigod!"* *"I am definitely going to find whoever wrote the line above—I've never tasted a demigod Lalafell before."* There were lingering regrets that demigods could never let go of: *"Rayfield, this is as far as you can accompany me."* *"Brother, I will definitely find you in Hell!"* *"Why do we have to drift apart just because we became demigods...?"* *"After a hundred years, I've finally climbed up here to find you."* *"Poki, the days we spend apart from now on will have to be counted in years."* Naturally, there was no lack of pride in their sorcery: *"The future belongs to the century of alchemy!"* *"Heart severs the flesh; blade slashes the soul."* *"Burn everything to ash! I am the incarnation of blazing flames!"* *"I have foreseen the future, and you are not in it."* There were also entries dripping with brutality: *"I will fight my way back, I swear it! When I break out of Hell, skulls will pile into mountains, skeletons will form dense forests, hair will pave the carpets, and flesh will rot into dust—wherever I tread, there will be mountains of corpses and seas of blood!"* Yaxiu asked, "Weixi, do you recognize the author of this one?" In truth, he didn't hold much hope. After all, the inscription had already gone gray, indicating that its writer had died long ago. Yet Weixi took a glance and actually gave an answer: "Probably Blood Bird. Judging by the phrasing, it should be his work." "You really know him?" "We collaborated for a time. He was quite easy to use. Though he seemed patient, he was fierce on the outside and brutal to the core—very easy to read. Using him to do dirty work was quite convenient." "How did he die?" "Once, he was ambushed and heavily wounded, and he came asking me to save his life. So I refined him into a vengeful spirit." Weixi yawned. "He never stopped to think why he fell into an ambush so shortly after embezzling my share. He was actually quite suited to the environment of Hell, but sadly, only the foulest devils survive until the very end. "If you get hurt in the future, don't go looking for people you trust either. Hide away like a stray dog and lick your wounds. Only when you possess the strength to strike back do you earn the right to trust anyone else." Yaxiu was somewhat at a loss for words. He had originally wanted to use that message to teach Weixi a lesson, only to end up getting lectured by her instead. As Yaxiu continued reading the messages, Weise gave Weixi a look. "You made that up, didn't you?" Though phrased as a question, her tone was entirely certain. "The event definitely happened," Weixi replied leisurely. "As long as the point got across, that's what matters." Just then, Diya suddenly blurted out, "Da—Yaxiu, look here!" Everyone walked over, and Sonia asked with feigned nonchalance, "Witch, you almost slipped up." "Um, it just slipped out subconsciously." Diya looked a bit embarrassed. "But as I recall, from the moment Yaxiu returned until before our promotion, you never once called him the wrong thing." Sonia looked at the Witch. "Why slip up all of a sudden?" "Even during the Hell Trials, you instinctively called him by his name," Weixi chimed in. "You didn't even slip up back then." Diya managed to keep a straight face, but her calves were already trembling, and her hair color had turned muddied. She reached out to take Sonia's hand, her eyes wide and innocent. "I really just slipped up... I'm sorry." The Witch's gaze was full of pitiful pleading. Sonia gently bit her lower lip. In the end, they were friends who had been through so much together; her heart softened, and she let it drop. Still, seeing the Witch's nervous look and her feigned obedience, they could all guess something fishy was going on. It was just that no matter how wild their guesses were, they still underestimated the Witch's grand scheme. "Yaxiu, what are you looking at?" Weise asked curiously. Yaxiu crouched before the curtain of death, utterly absorbed, having paid no attention to what the girls were discussing. Sonia and the others leaned in and saw two faintly glowing sentences inscribed upon the curtain: *"Fuel their desires, grant what they need."* *"Though this form is cold flowing fire, it still longs for the moment it burns away."*