After more than two years, this book had finally come to an end.
I shut down the computer, and for a moment, a thousand emotions surged through me. For over two years, nearly all my energy had revolved around this book. No matter when it ended, it would have felt sudden, just as it did for so many readers who had followed it for more than two years.
But at this point, I felt this was already the best place to end it.
Like the earlier plot—after Taiyi arrived in the World of the Dead, if I had wanted to keep writing, I could actually have padded it out by another several hundred thousand words, forcing him into a desperate corner before pulling off a comeback from the brink.
However, I still felt that would not have been appropriate. And if it did not end here, if it kept going, I also felt it would no longer be right.
Now, it was just right: a sense of lingering unfinished longing, yet still basically complete.
It was not flawless, but however reluctant I was, it still had to end.
If I truly kept digging into the secrets and excavating every last thing, could I have kept writing? Yes. But I felt that would have been like drawing legs on a snake—just milking it for rotten money.
As I spoiled long ago, the protagonist could never cultivate every One Word Art and evolve every divine ability.
He cultivated the highest Thinking Art and derived several divine abilities from it. As for the others, the protagonist would not learn most of them; even the One Word Arts that had appeared were far from complete.
That was because the world in the book was incomplete, but also because the protagonist was not the sort