This One Cares, and This One Does Too

Turning around, Bai Zhou picked a dusty, pitch-black short rod from the accumulated dirt on the ground. Brushing away the dust, Bai Zhou scrutinized the fire-poker-like black rod, feeling that it looked utterly plain and unpretentious. It was a little over half an arm's length, of an unknown material, resembling some kind of metal yet also some kind of mysterious wood. At the front tip of the rod was a slanted break, exceedingly sharp, like a crude primitive wooden spear. This was the only item left behind by "Laia." Back then, the bloated monster had held this and played whack-a-mole with him for half the day, smashing the earth until it cracked—clear proof of its extraordinary nature. —At least it was hard enough. It felt warm and smooth in the hand, but was far heavier than imagined. Even now, Bai Zhou found it quite strenuous to lift; it had to weigh nearly a hundred jin. "This density..." Bai Zhou was full of shock and wonder. Rather than a short rod, Bai Zhou felt more like he was holding a massive warhammer. If this thing struck someone on the head, it would probably split like a watermelon on the spot. Just then, Bai Zhou inexplicably sensed the rod's pull and thirst for spirituality. "What's going on?" After a moment's thought, Bai Zhou tried infusing his spirituality into it. Hummm— A powerful suction suddenly surged from the rod. Bai Zhou shuddered violently as if struck by an electric shock, and most of his spirituality poured into it. Like a bottomless black hole, the "starving" rod ravenously drank in spirituality without end. Seeing this, Bai Zhou immediately severed the flow of spiritual energy. In the next instant, the rod grew scalding hot, as though coming alive, trembling violently in Bai Zhou's palm. An illusory silhouette of light slowly materialized at the fracture of the rod, extending onward and stretching wildly toward the sky. "This is..." Rrrrip—! Accompanied by the crisp sound of tearing cloth, the radiant silhouette of a platinum-gold war banner unfurled from the rod, rising straight into the heavens! Whoosh... The tattered war banner fluttered in the wind, as if it had just returned from a bloody battle that had shaken heaven and earth, bearing a chilling solemnity and grief so thick it could never dissolve. In his ears rang the clamor of tens of thousands of soldiers and horses clashing, as though countless battle spirits were marching past him toward the battlefield, and in a daze, Bai Zhou felt as if he had become one of them. "Shine!" Laia's voice seemed to echo from amidst the vast army, carrying across the long river of history. "The light is here!" "Hope is here—!" The war banner poured cascading light over Bai Zhou. He felt his strength climbing without end, his blood boiling, his fighting will surging wildly. Neither pain nor injury could touch Bai Zhou in this moment, as if something were blessing and shielding him. —As if the young girl named "Laia" were standing quietly behind him! In the next instant, a pillar of light soared into the heavens, and a surging river of judging light raged outward in all directions. Yet in this ruined wasteland, the vast river formed of light could find no target to pass judgment upon, and could only run rampant across the empty expanse. "That war banner!" The War Banner of Light that Laia had once wielded... had been in her hands all along. Even though her consciousness had been submerged by darkness, and even though only half a flagpole remained, she had still never let go of this banner. Unfortunately, Bai Zhou possessed too little spirituality, leaving the banner's form faint and insubstantial. The pillar of light could not even sustain itself for half a second before vanishing into thin air with a fleeting flash. The climbing strength halted abruptly; the surging battle will disappeared into nothingness. All the immense power from a moment ago felt like an illusion. All that remained was Bai Zhou, completely drained, half-crouching weakly on the ground. He gasped heavily for breath, his face deathly pale. Yet looking down at the blackened rod, which had reverted to its "fire-poker" state, his eyes glittered. This broken flagpole... He had witnessed the full glory of this banner with his own eyes, and knew how Laia had ascended to divinity because of it. It had once been the sole faith of an extraordinary army, and in Laia's hands, it had judged thousands of troops and swept through tides of the dead. From what had just occurred, he could tell... Perhaps that past glory and might would see the light of day once more in the future! "Right, there's also that wooden horse..." Bai Zhou pushed himself up with the rod, looking up at the broken walls and ruins not far away. The little gift Laia had meant for a child back home had gradually developed spirituality under the wash of the battlefield's lingering malice, turning into a mystical item. No wonder it carried no "last words." But now, with the "Light" rune imprinted in his Sea of Ignorance, Bai Zhou easily collected the little horse. Facing Bai Zhou, who now possessed "Light," the little wooden horse no longer belted out the Troy nursery rhyme; instead, it grew remarkably docile and obedient. As a cost, however, since Bai Zhou hadn't experienced its terrifying effects, he couldn't know just how lethal and dangerous it was to humans... Still, that was fine. Take it back, and some lucky soul would surely get a taste of it. ... With the wooden horse tucked into his shirt, Bai Zhou unwittingly walked back to that familiar corpse pit. The bright red flowers still swayed there. [Let me rest!] [Let me rest!] [Let me rest!] These petals had been swaying like this, "unable to rest," for who knew how many years. If Bai Zhou hadn't arrived, they would undoubtedly have continued swaying on and on. Last time, it was while examining these last words that Bai Zhou had encountered the white giant crawling out from the pile of ancient corpses. Now, the ancient corpses in the pit had been thoroughly wrecked by the white giant, scattered messily all over the ground. —There was even a skeleton that had been hurled into the distance, bones strewn everywhere. "..." Bai Zhou blinked, looking at these corpses that "could not rest," deep in thought. In fact, when he buried Laia earlier... Quite by accident, Bai Zhou had suddenly developed a hunch regarding these last words. ...Soon, a new mound of earth was piled up. An ancient corpse was buried within by Bai Zhou. Since their last words were [Let me rest], Bai Zhou would lay them to rest in the earth. Bai Zhou didn't know how things were on Blue Star, but in Wancheng, being laid to rest in the soil was of paramount importance. Even taboo-breakers who were burned to ash would later be brought back by family or neighbors to be buried. Their customs held that the living needed a home, and so did the dead. Only by being buried could the departed find eternal peace. —And continue to dwell upon this earth, alongside the living. Perhaps it was the same in this place. At least on this ruined wasteland, Bai Zhou had already seen more than one burial mound. However... Above the quiet mound, the last words [Let me rest] still hovered. At first glance, it looked like a floating epitaph. His dying wish did not seem to have been fulfilled. "..." Bai Zhou pondered for a long while, ultimately restraining the urge to dig the ancient corpse back out of the earth. He turned his gaze toward the other desiccated corpses and skeletons. Since the last words on all the corpses were identical... Perhaps only after burying all their remains could they find peace? Bai Zhou decided to give it a try. Yet when he moved to the second ancient corpse, Bai Zhou found a tattered scrap of cloth beneath it. It seemed to be a letter, inscribed with fragmented phrases in an ancient, unfamiliar script. Perhaps it was a suicide note. Or perhaps it was a letter from parents back home. —Or maybe some vital military intelligence. Amid the raging fires of war, such a scrap of cloth bearing written words was exceptionally unique. So Bai Zhou performed a minor ritual and deciphered the text. Because it was not an extraordinary script and carried no special meaning, deciphering it with the ritual was fairly easy. The content was far too damaged, and only the opening sentence remained intact. It read: "My darling, the war is about to end..." Bai Zhou was left speechless. The rest of the words were gone. No matter how future generations imagined it, there was no way to fathom the feelings of the person who wrote the letter back then. For some reason, Bai Zhou inexplicably thought of Section Chief Liu. Regarding Section Chief Liu's sacrifice, what would his wife and child think? In the end, Bai Zhou buried that tattered strip of cloth along with the ancient corpse. —As if burying the story behind them with his own hands. ...Gradually, Bai Zhou began to forget his "original intention" of fulfilling dying wishes to gain gifts. He simply carried out the task with earnest, pure dedication. These soldiers had rushed to the battlefield for their own reasons and died under the banner of "Light"... They shouldn't have been left without a resting place. Bai Zhou worked a bit slowly, repeating the exact same motions. He bent down over and over, picking up and carrying one restless skeleton after another, then burying them side by side. —Right now, Bai Zhou only hoped they had harbored no grudges in life, and wouldn't quarrel in the afterlife over being buried so close together... After a long time. When Bai Zhou stood with hands on his hips before the neat row of graves and looked them over, a sense of accomplishment welled up within him. Crude tombstones fashioned from battered shields were planted before the graves of these nameless soldiers. Blades, spears, tridents, and swords—all rust-pitted and notched—along with suits of terribly damaged armor, were laid out before the graves. —All of these were buried by his own hands! Bai Zhou's guess had been right, yet only half-right. Over a dozen epitaph-like dying wishes hovered in the air, connecting side by side into a single expanse, glittering and gleaming as though on the verge of shattering. Yet, in the end, they did not shatter. It seemed they were still missing just a little something before fulfilling the final wish. As to what was missing, Bai Zhou truly had no clue. Yet Bai Zhou felt that this didn't seem so important anymore. The living had a home, and the dead should have a home too. Sometimes, death wasn't even something that had to bring sorrow to the living. At least, if Section Chief Liu had died a normal hero's death and been buried in the Resting Cemetery, Bai Zhou wouldn't feel so angry and heartbroken. In short, perhaps touched by how Section Chief Liu had died without even a corpse left behind, Bai Zhou now felt that keeping people from dying without a resting place was inherently a worthy thing to do. Even if there was no "gift," it didn't matter. Just then, suddenly— A bewildered inquiry sounded in Bai Zhou's ear. The raspy, low, and cold inquiry seemed to come from the sky, yet also from beneath the earth. The disorienting voice carried an unspeakable, terrifying majesty and heavy oppression. It was as though it had watched Bai Zhou's bizarre behavior for a long time, only now unable to hold back from speaking. Though the language was entirely alien, the moment it reached Bai Zhou's ears, he somehow understood its meaning. It said: "What are you doing?" "In this Lost Plain, who cares if you do such meaningless things?" The two abrupt questions startled Bai Zhou. Grabbing the short rod in one hand and scooping up the spear-gun in the other, muscles taut, Bai Zhou backed away repeatedly, scanning his surroundings with vigilance, yet he saw nothing at all. Something terrifyingly formidable was watching this place! Perhaps... Bai Zhou looked up at the colossal inverted city hanging in the sky, beads of sweat breaking out on his forehead. Realizing that he had been observed for a long time, Bai Zhou simply answered in a low voice: "Maybe a lot of things don't necessarily need a grand purpose." "...I did it simply because I wanted to." With that, he tightened his grip on the spear-gun and the rod, falling silent for a moment. "To be honest, even I didn't care about what would come of doing this." "But perhaps..." Raising the rod, Bai Zhou pointed at the neatly aligned graves before him, pointing at the silent suits of armor one by one: "Perhaps he cares." "This one cares, and this one cares, and this one, and this one..." "..."