646 Twelve Thousand Years?

[POV: Nongmin]

Nongmin stood with his hands in the pockets of his dark overcoat, the first floor of the Tower stretching around him in the familiar concrete and steel of a modern city at night. Streetlights cast long yellow cones across the empty lot behind the warehouse, illuminating the shallow pits his men were filling. The air smelled of damp earth, diesel, and the faint metallic tang that always lingered after a job.

His driver approached, phone in hand.

“Boss, are you heading back to the usual haunt tonight?” he asked. “The others have been asking about you. They say your... friend said he had something to tell you.”

Nongmin glanced at the phone.

His own had been on silent, which explained why they had gone through his driver instead. By “friend,” they likely meant either Da Wei or Ru Qiu. It had been some time since he had last seen Ru Qiu, and the absence was beginning to make the others worry.

“Tell them I’ll be there.”

“The boss says he’ll be there,” the driver repeated into the phone. He paused, then looked toward Nongmin. “Anything else to add, boss?”

Nongmin shook his head and returned his attention to the work.

The bodies went into the ground one after another.

Most had been around the mid-fifties in level, ordinary players who had apparently thought a little extra power made them untouchable on the ground floor. A few had been in their seventies or eighties. There had even been a couple who had scraped into the low hundreds.

None of it had mattered, since Nongmin was higher level than all of them.

“Incredible trick,” he suddenly remarked.

He raised an index finger.

A small burst of qi gathered at his fingertip before shooting forward.

The qi bullet struck one of the diggers.

Bang!

The man dropped dead.

Nongmin stared at his finger with mild interest. It was a technique he had created recently, one focused on maximizing qi efficiency while retaining sufficient destructive power. Its inspiration had come from a gun, and apparently, his imitation had reproduced more than just its function. It had also reproduced the sound.

He still had not figured out how to silence it, but he was getting there.

“B-Boss?” the driver stammered.

“Make another pit.”

The dead man's face changed.

The disguise covering his appearance vanished upon death, revealing his actual level and class above his corpse.

[Level 200]

[Flesh Shaper]

The remaining workers froze, their expressions revealing that they had not expected the man to possess such a level. The gang's ordinary errand runners were only around level ten, meaning the dead man's true level and class appeared to them as nothing more than question marks.

Even the driver, who was around level fifty, looked disturbed.

“Go on,” Nongmin said.

The driver hurried to pick up the dropped spade and began digging with renewed vigor.

Nongmin watched in silence.

One of the younger goons glanced up, caught his eye, and immediately looked away, driving his spade deeper into the soil. Another wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of a gloved hand and continued working.

No one asked questions, since they knew better.

It was hardly unexpected that people would begin infiltrating his organization. The meteoric rise of the organization he had usurped was bound to attract attention. It had taken Nongmin only four years to carve out a sizable portion of this floor for himself.

There would always be people wondering how.

Some would come looking for answers.

Others would come looking for an opportunity.

When the last mound had been packed flat and the excess dirt scattered around the lot to make the ground appear natural, Nongmin gave a short nod.

The men began packing the tools into the van without a word.

Nongmin turned and walked toward the black sedan waiting at the curb, its engine already idling. The rear door opened as he approached. He slid inside, settled against the leather seat, and shut the door with a soft click.

“Home.”

The driver pulled away from the lot, leaving the fresh earth behind. A moment later, Da Wei appeared beside Nongmin.

It was a dream projection of Da Wei. He looked almost exactly as he had the last time Nongmin had seen him, dressed in a lab coat and pants. The driver glanced at the rear-view mirror and apparently saw him as well.

The driver's eyes widened, but he quickly looked back at the road.

“You could use a little more discretion,” Nongmin said, recalling Da Wei's dream projections could make it so that only a specific person could see it.

“My fine control still isn't that good, especially after the incident.” Da Wei sighed, his expression pained. “Besides, my body is still in a state of deep meditation. Being able to dream-project while my mind was literally trapped outside space and time deserves some praise, doesn't it?”

“From you? Not so much. It's expected.”

Da Wei looked wounded, while Nongmin continued mercielessly.

“If you don't live up to everyone's expectations, then who is going to save us from the end days?”

“Ouch. I didn't think you would be the one giving me such a hard time.”

“I avoid speaking to you with reverence when it is just us. I treat you as I would any friend or peer. Tao Long does the same because he knows that is what you want.” Nongmin glanced at him. “You would never catch either of us speaking to you like that in front of your subjects, though. I reasoned this might be the only time I could afford to be hard on you.”

A reader finding this copy should know it came from the author's official page without permission, where the story is published.

Da Wei remained silent.

“When you first met me, I couldn't do that,” Nongmin continued. “I'm merely doing my part as your predecessor. One ruler to another.”

There was another reason Nongmin was being hard on him.

The signs.

Four years as a gang boss had been enough for Nongmin to see more than he ever wanted to see of this Tower. He dreaded imagining what the rest of it had to offer.

More importantly, he dreaded what the things he had witnessed actually meant.

“Tell me you have something,” Nongmin said.

“Twelve thousand years.”

Nongmin's expression changed. “Excuse me?”

“It's best that your driver doesn't hear any of this.”

Nongmin immediately leaned forward. “Pull over.”

The driver glanced at him through the mirror. "Boss?"

“Park somewhere out of the way. Then get out and have a smoke.”

The driver hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yes, boss.”

The sedan soon pulled to the side of the road. The driver stepped out, lit a cigarette, and walked a short distance away.

Only then did Nongmin look back at Da Wei. “Talk.”

Da Wei's expression had become unusually solemn. “If everything I've calculated is correct, it will take us twelve thousand years to claw our way out of this place.”

Nongmin stared at him. “Twelve thousand?”

“Twelve thousand years,” Da Wei confirmed. “That's the minimum estimate. That's assuming everything goes according to plan and we don't encounter any major setbacks.”

For a moment, Nongmin heard nothing but the muted hum of the car. Twelve thousand years. That was not even a sentence he'd heart spoken in courts of the Hollowed World. It was an eternity. To say it was bad would have been an understatement.

Nongmin had a family. He had a wife. She had already reached the realm of immortality, but his daughter had not. He had already missed so much of their lives. Even after everything he had gained, there had been moments when he wondered whether all of it had been worth the time he had lost.

And now he was being told that he might miss twelve thousand more years.

His fingers slowly tightened inside his coat pockets. “That long?”

Da Wei nodded. “I know.”

Nongmin looked away, staring through the window at the passing streets. Twelve thousand goddamn years. His daughter would not remain the same person for that long. Neither would the world waiting for them outside. He had spent four years establishing himself here. Four years that had already felt like a lifetime.

"It never gets easier."

Twelve thousand years was something else entirely. After spending so much time, peering into alternate timelines, he'd grown tired of waiting out the years.

“I’m sorry,” Da Wei said quietly. “I've been looking for other ways. I'm still looking. Twelve thousand years is only what I've been able to calculate based on what we know now and how far I've come to. There has to be another route.”

Nongmin studied his face.

For once, Da Wei did not look like the man everyone believed would save them.

He simply looked tired.

“I'll find another way,” Da Wei said. “I promise.”

“You'd better,” spat Nongmin with lingering grudge.

Da Wei smiled faintly. “That's the spirit.”

Nongmin gave him a flat look. “Don't get sentimental. I'm still angry.”

“I noticed.”

Nongmin was around two thousand years old when he first met Da Wei.

Now, he was over six thousand.

For most of that span, the years had passed without meaning much to him. There had only been a few centuries when he had truly felt alive. Those had been the years he spent in the Workshop, working side by side with Zai Ai.

If he counted all the alternate timelines he had peered into and endured within his mind, he might have been even older than that.

“I need a smoke,” Nongmin said as he opened the sedan door and stepped out.

The driver immediately panicked. “Boss? Where are you going? Should I come with you?”

“Stay in the car.”

“But—”

“Stay.”

The driver stopped.

Nongmin walked away from the sedan, increasing the distance with his superior movement speed. He did not bother looking back. He soon reached a nearby park and stopped beneath a tree. He leaned against the trunk and pulled out a cigarette.

After lighting it with a lighter, he took a slow drag.

The nicotine actually reached him.

That alone was something he would not have expected before coming to the Tower. Its suppression limited both biology and supernatural powers, forcing beings like them closer to the limitations of ordinary mortals. As a result, even something as mundane as nicotine could affect him.

“Do you think that's smart?” Da Wei's dream projection appeared in front of him, not missing a beat. “Can't you see the no-smoking sign beside you?”

Nongmin glanced toward the sign. “I didn't.”

“I mean, look at how big the letters are.”

“I can't read.”

Da Wei stared at him. "Really? You?"

“This world possesses a different language system from both the Hollowed World and the False Earth. I only knew the False Earth's language because I studied it from the records you left with the various relevant research institutes.”

“But you've had four years to study this one. I heard N'wa even went to college, and she doesn't have your cultivation. What's your excuse?”

“She is an Ancient Soul. It's highly likely she had experience with this language before. Who's to say she learned an entirely new language purely through skill?” Nongmin took another drag, deciding to drop Tao Long under the bus. It was an expression that fit the situation perfectly. “Even Tao Long can't read. Besides, the suppression on our cultivation has made hard rote memorization obsolete.”

“Hei Mei can read.”

“...”

Nongmin stared at him, realizing he had no excuse this time.

While everyone could speak the language of this floor, its developed writing system was completely different.

The truth was that Nongmin simply had not had the time to work on his reading. The past four years had been spent roaming around, beating up high-level players, stealing territory, and scheming against anyone who might threaten his position.

If he needed something read, he had a thug do it for him.

It had been a practical solution.

The past four years had not been easy. There had been higher-level players from the upper floors who had nearly crushed them. Nongmin had barely managed to deal with some of them. If not for Ru Qiu, Nongmin and the others would have been destroyed. That was another reason his disappearance worried him.

“Forget about me,” Nongmin snapped. “Tao Long has nothing to do but sit on his ass all day. He can't read either. Let's talk about something more important.”

He took another drag from his cigarette. “Where is Ru Qiu?”

“Doing important stuff,” Da Wei replied.

“Like what?”

"I have a dream projection tagging with him if he gets lost. He'll be fine." Da Wei's expression became more serious. “There are bigger threats than the occasional high-level players from the upper floors. Don't tell anyone yet, but multiple aspects of the Supreme Void exist within the Tower. Ru Qiu has been keeping them in check.”

The implications settled heavily.

Their situation was far worse than Nongmin had imagined. It was practically a miracle they were still alive. And apparently, much of that miracle was because Ru Qiu had been fighting battles somewhere they could not see.

Da Wei continued grimly. “A war is being waged right now between the players from the opposite side of the Tower and those on this side. The Supreme Void is leading this side. We need to hunker down for the first thousand years. Stay still, like we're already dead, and wait for an opportunity.”

“Sounds reasonable.”

“That's the safest option I can see. Of course, I hadn't given up on finding alternatives to leaving this place. In the meantime, look for players around this floor and sponsor them. Do the same with the natives of this floor. Tempt them to become players and continue building from there.” Da Wei's gaze hardened. “In time, we'll have a standing army ready.”

Nongmin stared at him. “Are you sure?”

“No.”

The bluntness of the answer caught Nongmin off guard.

Da Wei sighed. “Look, I'm not comfortable with it either. But here's what you need to understand about this place.” His expression became distant. “The Tower is an even bigger lie than the False Earth. This floor has people with lives of their own, and tempting them with power to work for you sounds so shady. But we don't really have a choice in this matter.”

Nongmin remained silent, allowing Da Wei to continue.

“The Tower is an uncomfortable lie built around leaving echoes of your perished soul behind, then using those echoes to play a part in the Tower's design. They become NPCs, ghosts that aren't really ghosts. It's a bad joke.”

Da Wei shook his head.

“The Supreme Heart has a twisted mind to create something like this.”

Nongmin took another drag.

If the False Earth was a prison caught in a cyclical doom, designed by a dead and mad god for his amusement and potential resurgence, then the Tower was something else entirely.

A childish expression of a fate-stealing fraud.

A place designed to seal Da Wei away, hurt him, and perhaps simply entertain its creator in the process.

“Who really knows what the Supreme Heart is thinking?” Nongmin muttered, exhaling smoke. "He's just as mad as the Void.”

“If there's someone who knows, it's probably you," Da Wei said, looking at him, his sincerity clear in his eyes. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Nongmin's answer came immediately.

He took another long drag from the cigarette and looked away.

“Leave me alone. I need to think.”

Da Wei said nothing. His dream projection faded shortly afterward, leaving Nongmin alone beneath the tree. The park was quiet. He looked at the smoke curling from between his fingers. There were too many things to think about, but he found himself distracted by the smoke curling from his cig.