Death Reset (Revised)

Fang Xiu had a dream—

In the dream, he became an existence drifting above the River of Time.

There is a theory that humans are three-dimensional beings living in a four-dimensional universe, and every three-dimensional being is but a grain of sand in the River of Time, capable only of flowing downstream with the current. He, however, was a fish in that river; he could swim with the current, swim against it, or even leap out of the River of Time entirely. He was a higher-dimensional being who had broken free from the constraints of the time dimension.

Although he could not change the flow rate of the entire River of Time, nor could he make it flow backward, he could traverse through time at will, leaping beyond its shackles. This feeling was absolutely exhilarating.

"I am God!"

Then, he woke up.

Fang Xiu splashed his face with water, put on his glasses, and looked at himself in the mirror. He was a tall, thin young man in his early twenties. Aside from his short-cropped hair, which made him look quite spirited, there was nothing particularly special about him.

With water still dripping from his chin, Fang Xiu stared at his reflection, his eyes filled with confusion. "Why would I have such a strange dream?"

Some had once said that Fang Xiu's name was somewhat ominous, carrying a hint of "ceasing only at death." However, Fang Xiu did not expect that from this day forward, his life would indeed embark on a path that would not cease even in death.

After washing up, Fang Xiu glanced at the Perpetual Calendar on the wall; it was exactly 8:23. He rented an apartment on the first floor, though the level below was a garage, meaning he had to descend a flight of stairs after pushing open his door to exit the building and begin his busy day of work.

However, as Fang Xiu stepped out of his room, he did not notice a figure standing on the stairs above, a pair of cold eyes fixed upon him.

The figure wore a black hood and was dressed like a food delivery worker. Holding an axe, he lifted his foot and hopped onto the window ledge at the stairwell corner, his posture as precise as a professional diver.

His right hand gripped a Fire Axe. The blade was large and slightly curved—reportedly manufactured based on some sort of ergonomics—which the assailant had grabbed from the stairwell.

He stretched his arms out straight, closing his eyes as if feeling the wind, or as if about to soar upon it. His knees were slightly bent, his feet tapping lightly against the windowsill below.

"One!"

"Two!"

"Three!"

As Fang Xiu walked through the corridor and stepped out of the apartment building, the assailant, as if timing it to a stopwatch, leaped down from the heights. Carrying immense force, he smashed his axe into Fang Xiu's head.

The method was incredibly brutal. The axe shattered the skull and embedded itself within. Before Fang Xiu could react, he collapsed to his knees.

The killer pulled the axe out, and brains and blood splattered everywhere. As Fang Xiu's corpse fell to the ground, it twitched and jerked—whether because he wasn't quite dead yet or due to nerve spasms—looking like a dying lobster, a truly terrifying sight.

"What's going on? Am I dead?" Fang Xiu's face pressed against the concrete floor, his pupils filled with shock and terror. Everything he saw blurred, and finally, he plunged into darkness.

"Tick!"

The sound was like a single drop of water falling into the world, shattering all space and order, stirring up endless waves. From the River of Time, an invisible, illusory hand reached out and grabbed Fang Xiu's consciousness and soul.

There was no vision; he was viewing the world from a strange and mysterious perspective. The entire world—the high-rises, the earth—all transformed into grids and lines.

Then, the grids and lines began to fade, everything retreating frantically into blurred shadows. Lines merged and vanished, and the entire world turned into pure white.

Fang Xiu saw a silver pocket watch descending from the horizon. The silver timepiece was exquisite and ornate, filled with a classical, graceful style, yet it was so massive that it occupied his entire field of vision. He couldn't even see the whole thing; before it, Fang Xiu was as tiny as a grain of sand, floating in the vast white world where only he and the giant clock remained.

The clock was unimaginably intricate. On its casing, every tool used to measure time appeared and vanished: gnomons, sundials, water clocks, incense clocks, hourglasses, oil lamp clocks, candle clocks, and more. Everything Fang Xiu had seen, everything he hadn't, everything he knew and didn't know, could be found upon it.

A corner of the interior was exposed, revealing countless dense, tiny gears engraved with innumerable special symbols.

"Tick!"

When Fang Xiu focused on it, the second hand of the clock finally began to move. The stationary gears began to rotate in a chain reaction.

"Tick! Tick! Tick!" The hollow-patterned second hand spun faster and faster, becoming a blur, driving the minute hand into a violent rotation as well.

"Ding-dong!"

Finally, like an alarm bell ringing, it signaled that time was up.

At this moment, Fang Xiu opened his eyes. He had woken up again.

Fang Xiu looked at himself in the mirror, a toothbrushing cup in one hand and a toothbrush in the other. Suddenly, he shuddered, and both the brush and the cup fell to the floor.

"What the hell?"

Fang Xiu looked up, dazed, at the Perpetual Calendar. The time on it was—8:11.

Though he didn't understand the situation, Fang Xiu's intuition and everything he had just seen told him that he had returned to more than ten minutes ago. At this very moment, outside the apartment building, a guy was lurking, waiting to kill him.

The pain of the axe shattering his skull and the despair of facing death were still deeply etched in Fang Xiu's mind. He didn't know why the man wanted to kill him, but he knew he wouldn't let it slide. He had to make the guy taste the same feeling.

"That guy must have jumped from the window at the stairwell corner on the second floor. He's definitely still crouching there!"

"This is a premeditated, planned murder!"

Fang Xiu rushed into the kitchen in a fit of rage, grabbed a fruit knife, and decided to go upstairs to slaughter that bastard. He had ambushed him earlier; this time, it was his turn to go up and deliver a warm surprise.

Fang Xiu was furious, but he wasn't a fool. He simply didn't believe that, knowing the opponent's position and moves, he could still lose an ambush. It was an insult to his abilities; he had never backed down from a fight since he was a child.

He carefully pushed the door open, tiptoeing up the stairs, leaning against the railing as he moved slowly upward, lifting his head to secretly observe where the opponent was and what he was doing.

However, just as Fang Xiu spotted him, the killer had already discovered Fang Xiu's tracks and had long been prepared.

He finally saw what his killer looked like: a man wearing a black hat and a red delivery uniform. By the time Fang Xiu saw him, the man was already charging down.

His speed was impossibly fast, his footsteps like flight. He didn't rush down the stairs but instead ran horizontally along the wall, his feet seemingly suctioned to the surface, gliding as if ignoring gravity.

Speed, afterimages, swift as lightning!

Raising his hand, twisting his body, swinging the axe—all in one fluid motion!

The sharp axe flashed with a cold glint. Before Fang Xiu could react, the blade had already sliced across his neck, the force so immense it tore through flesh and severed his cervical spine.

Fang Xiu's entire head was severed, spinning several times in the air before slamming into the ground like a rotten ball. The blood spurting from his neck dyed the entire stairwell red.

An all-encompassing suppression of speed, strength, technique, and awareness, combined with mysterious and flamboyant footwork, made Fang Xiu realize that his failure and death were not merely due to a sneak attack; this time, his opponent had crushed him head-on.

They had killed him through sheer skill; he couldn't even claim he had just handed them the win.

"Tick!"

The exact same scene reappeared. Consciousness and soul retreated, the world blurred, and he entered a completely white void where a massive silver clock hung suspended.

However, for some reason, the bottom of this all-white world was now stained with a layer of black, and even the silver clock had taken on a deeper hue. As the bell tolled, it signaled the end.

He was back in front of the same mirror!

He was still holding the water cup and toothbrush!

Fang Xiu calmly tossed the cup and toothbrush onto the floor, returned to the living room sofa, and sorrowfully lit a cigarette. He took a deep drag and exhaled.

Clouds of smoke swirled around him, and a lingering melancholy filled his eyes, giving him a sense of decadence that rivaled the "Sharp Brother."

Then! He picked up the phone!

"Hello! Is this the police?"