Chapter 107 The Elderly
"I..." Qi Xia stumbled back a step, suddenly struck by the familiarity of the scene.
"What the—!" Qiao Jiajin was equally startled; they had barely been here for a minute, yet this old man seemed to have materialized out of thin air. How had he silently appeared behind Qi Xia?
"Young'un," the old man rasped, revealing his lone remaining tooth as he extended a withered arm toward Qi Xia. "You really shouldn't provoke Celestial Dragon... Staking with your life... even that may not suffice..."
Just as Qiao Jiajin was about to intervene, Qi Xia pulled him back. “Wait, I want to talk to him.” He pulled Qiao Jiajin aside and reached out to grasp the old man’s arm. The two men held onto each other’s arms like long-lost friends. “Mister, do you recognize me?” Qi Xia asked.
The old man faltered, his breath catching, as if the words had stirred an overwhelming surge of emotion within him. For a moment, it seemed he might break into tears. His grip on Qi Xia’s hand tightened with such force that a sharp pain shot through his own arm. “You... you’re willing to speak to me?... How wonderful!... I can wait...” His voice trembled with barely contained fervor. “Even if we must start anew, I’ll wait... Soon, you’ll destroy this cursed place and liberate us all…”
His delirium appeared to have deepened, compelling Qi Xia to continue, despite the growing unease, as he sought further understanding. “Liberate us all? What does {liberate} mean?”
“We’ve been trapped here!!” the elderly man cried, his voice breaking. “It’s all a lie... a monstrous lie!! He’s deceived us all!!”
“Calm yourself, mister,” Qi Xia said, gently releasing the old man’s trembling hand to instead take hold of his shoulders, hoping to steady his frazzled emotions. “Who has deceived us? What is this lie you are referring to?”
The first rumble of thunder Qi Xia had ever heard startled him, and he quickly turned his gaze skyward. There, above him, stretched an endless, cloudless expanse. How could thunder be born from nothing but empty air?
“I can’t say…” the old man lowered his head in fear, his voice barely a whisper. “If I speak of it, I will die…”
"Alright, let’s shift the question," Qi Xia pressed, his voice unwavering. "You mentioned we’ve been trapped here. What exactly does that mean?"
The old man lifted his gaze, his face marked by fear, yet his voice carried a gravity that demanded attention. "Young'un, no one gets out... not even in death... life after death, and death after life..."
“Why can’t we get out?” Qi Xia asked. “Even if we collect enough {Dào}, is it still impossible to escape?”
"{Dào}?" The old man faltered, his brow furrowing in confusion. “What is {Dào}?”
What is {Dào}? Qi Xia had never anticipated that the old man would pose such a question. He kept insisting Qi Xia {stake his life}, yet he didn’t even know what {Dào} was?
"{Dào} is…" Qi Xia muttered, his fingers instinctively searching for his pockets, only to realize there were none. The four {Dào} by the Mortal Dragon were all with Officer Li. Left with no other choice, he tried to describe it, "It’s a small, yellow-white orb, about the size of a walnut, and it glows. That’s our {stake} when partaking in games. They say if we gather three thousand six hundred of them, we can escape."
“Three thousand... six hundred {Dào}?” The old man’s eyes clouded with confusion, his voice tinged with disbelief. "I see... Even though this place has fallen into such ruin, he still remembers the master’s words…”
“{Master}?” Qi Xia was taken aback. “Who is the {master}?”
"I cannot say," the old man replied with unyielding finality. "These questions you're asking will cost me my life."
Qi Xia sensed that the old man’s identity was far from ordinary. His memories seemed to span beyond what was natural, possibly longer than anyone else’s. This made him a valuable source of knowledge, especially in a moment of dire need.
"Mister," Qi Xia asked, his tone softening, "would you like to come with us? We have food; are you hungry?" The old man’s gaunt frame and cracked skin, which resembled the brittle bark of a long-dead tree, suggested he had gone without nourishment for far too long.
"Eat? Don’t be foolish," the old man retorted, his expression darkening, a shadow of bitterness crossing his face. "I don’t need food." He let out a hollow laugh, tinged with regret. "For you to offer me food... it’s almost laughable. Truly, a grand joke."
‘Don’t need food?’ Qi Xia mulled over the old man’s words, realizing there was a kernel of truth hidden within them. Even if they were to starve to death in {End Point}, it would ultimately be meaningless—hence, food was an irrelevant concern in this place.
Qiao Jiajin, observing the old man for a while, let out a resigned sigh. “Swindler Lad, he’s clearly a madman, and yet you’re still chatting with him?”
Before Qi Xia could respond, the old man turned his gaze toward Qiao Jiajin. With slow, deliberate steps, he began to close the distance between them, forcing Qiao Jiajin to retreat.
"Hey, hey, hey..." Qiao Jiajin’s voice faltered, clearly uneasy. "I don’t hit the elderly or women. Don’t do anything reckless..."
The old man paid no heed to Qiao Jiajin’s protest and firmly seized his wrist.
“You…” Qiao Jiajin tried to wrench his arm free, but it was as if the old man’s grip had turned to iron. “Damn… what kind of strength is this? Are you a martial artist?”
“Qiao Jiajin…” The old man said slowly while holding his hand, “Why don’t you remember me? Qi Xia remembers, but you’ve forgotten who I am?”
Qi Xia narrowed his eyes. This old man indeed recognized them.
“Huh?” Qiao Jiajin’s confusion was palpable. Clearly rattled by the encounter, he fumbled for words. "Why would I know you, huh? Who you be?"
The old man lapsed into silence, his grip on Qiao Jiajin’s wrist unwavering for a moment, as though lost in deep thought. Then, with a slow, deliberate nod, he murmured, “I see now… You died before your {Reverberation}…”
“Reverberation? What is this Reverberation you keep talking about?” Qiao Jiajin snapped, frustration creeping into his voice. "You’re making my head spin! If you don’t let go soon, I might just hit you!"
Suddenly, the old man released his grip, causing Qiao Jiajin to stagger back a step. "You need to protect Qi Xia," the old man continued, his tone measured, yet somehow heavy with meaning. "To liberate everyone, we will need your strength."
After these words, the old man fell silent once more, his head bowed, as though lost in his own inner turmoil, his mind perhaps trying to unravel some truth only he could understand.
Qi Xia stepped forward, urging, “Mister, won’t you come back with us? I have so many questions for you.”
“No need,” the old man shook his head. “You don’t need to seek me out. Just wait for me to find you.”
“But…” Qi Xia hesitated, his gaze lingering on the old man. He sensed there was something deeper, a secret weighing heavily on him, something that caused him visible distress. "Alright then, may I know your name?"
The elderly man took a few steps back and replied, “I have no name, but here, they all call me {White Tiger}.”
The moment the words left his lips, the old man's body began to rise, lifting from the ground with an unnatural stillness. Before either of them could react, he simply disappeared, as though swallowed by the air itself. There was no glowing ascent like the immortals in legends, no dramatic flash of light like a magician’s vanishing trick—he simply vanished, leaving no trace behind.