Re-crossing and an Old Man Who Longs for Death

According to the angels' summaries, world coordinates can generally be divided into two categories.

It is much like a coordinate system in mathematics—though they only share a superficial resemblance; in reality, they are vastly different.

The angels used a cross to simply and crudely categorize countless different worlds.

At the top are the normal worlds; there might be conflict, but never years of endless war. "The moral standards are also relatively normal," is the original phrasing in the angels' memories.

Below are the insane worlds where everyone wants to see the other dead, whether due to innate nature or acquired reasons. It is not uncommon for worlds to shift from the top to the bottom, or vice versa.

To the left are worlds where magic is relatively prevalent.

To the right are worlds that utilize technology.

They rely on this system to classify and summarize worlds, but this also implies that there must be one world at the center of this cross.

Although He Shenyan always felt that such a broad classification was inappropriate, he knew nothing about this field, and he believed that if one is completely ignorant of a subject, it is better to listen to the advice of those with experience.

Although the way they "offered" advice was rather peculiar and not given proactively, it at least provided him with some help, and for that, he would thank them.

Among the long list of traversal methods provided by the angels, there was one most suitable for a single person; although it carried some risks, it was still much safer than his own method.

Action followed thought. He followed the instructions, channeling his magic to gather in his right hand, his body slowly lifting as he drifted through the starry sky. He traveled until he reached the edge of the galaxy, where the World Barrier had specifically left a cross-boundary contingency for him.

He pressed his magic against it, wholeheartedly sensing the vibrations of the World Barrier. It took a full three days before he grasped a hint of the rhythm.

It was a strange and indescribable cadence. Not daring to be careless, he immediately immersed his body and mind into it, and at that very moment, he slowly passed through the World Barrier.

Arriving once again in that strange sea of stars, universe after universe wrapped in glass-like material flickered around him. It was a completely different experience, one that made one feel the insignificance of the self even more keenly.

He Shenyan had no heart to observe those peculiar worlds. Currently, he could not go directly to the world he wanted, so he had to try his best to maintain his own vibrations within the same range as the World Barrier, so as not to be directly gazed upon by the Outer Gods.

Just like last time, the consciousness to "move forward" appeared in He Shenyan's mind again, and an inexplicable force pushed him to wander among these glass spheres. After a period of time, feeling that he could no longer maintain the state, he found the nearest one and dove in.

He named the world he had just visited Hogwarts; the angels' methods shouldn't lead to any major problems, and this world should count as a normal one.

In any case, it couldn't get any worse than it already was.

Amidst that familiar gravitational pull, he watched the scenery before him flash by once again.

He Shenyan recovered from the sensation of weightlessness and stood in a lush, verdant forest, a very pure smile appearing on his face.

He felt a very rich aura of magic; this was good, very good.

A white-haired old man was leaning over his desk, holding a quill, dipping it into ink, and writing something with intense focus.

"The year 1233 has just passed, and I still haven't seen a reliable Gari. Most of them look expressionless, but I know they are not as cold and heartless as they appear."

"However, it is truly too difficult to find someone worthy of trust, and I cannot seek out a mage. Heaven knows what those fellows would do to her. If there truly are gods, please protect me. I am already too old, so old that I might take this secret to the grave at any moment."

"But this secret is absolutely not worth sleeping in the ground with me; she must be taken care of. I am too old, too old..."

After the old man finished writing, he rubbed his eyes wearily. Just as he said, he was truly too old. Old enough to be the longest-lived person in this village, old enough to have sent off his son, old enough that he himself could no longer remember how long he had lived.

He picked up the pen and continued to write.

"I never imagined that a chance encounter fifty years ago would make me live so long, but the longer I live, the more I feel that a long life is not a blessing, but a curse."

"Over these years, I watched my Anna Tarsia depart. I watched my Little John grow into a big lad, watched him join the army, and die in battle. I am already very tired; I desperately want to sleep forever. But I cannot yet."

"I must fulfill that promise, that promise, that secret. She must be entrusted to someone worthy of trust. I must finish it."

He put down the pen, and his wrinkled hands closed the thick notebook.

The quill was tossed aside. Old Samuel Vito, a respected elder in the village, sat wearily in his chair, looking at the garden outside his window. In his heart, he recalled the time when Anna Tarsia was still alive—oh, his Anna.

He still remembered that Anna had left ten years ago.

It was very sudden; just a peaceful sleep, and when he woke up the next day, he found that Anna's life had already departed from her body. Samuel hadn't been too heartbroken at the time, but after laying her to rest, the sorrow followed him like a shadow.

In the days that had passed since losing her, he missed her every single minute. The dead are gone, but the memories left behind fill the places where they lived together. This was once the secret to happiness, but now it had become lethal arsenic.

And Samuel was willing to drink this arsenic.

He did not leave, nor did he fall into a slump as some had feared.

The old man simply continued to live alone, and he still held a transcendent status in the village. As the eldest, he was invited to the birth of newborns, the union of young couples, and the passing of the elderly.

This small village on the frontier seemed isolated from the flames of war; for many years, only the son he had sent to the city had joined the army, while most others were farmers. They were foolish and simple; they might become suspicious because they couldn't see the moon in the sky one night, worrying about the gods' punishment or a poor harvest in their fields.

At such times, Samuel's role became apparent. He had lived so long that the villagers believed he was favored by the gods. Therefore, he only needed to offer a comforting smile and pat them on the shoulder to make these fools quiet down and go back to living their lives.

He was even a barefoot doctor; having lived so long, he knew many ways to treat illnesses, and whenever a child had a high fever, they would go to him. He also knew many ways to set traps for hunting. It could be said that this long life had brought him mostly benefits.

Yet, he still looked forward to death.