【Main Mission · Phase Four · Complete】

  【Points Acquired: 20,000】

  【Remaining Points: 1,124,600】

  【Main Mission · Phase Five: As a Void Wanderer, witness the conditions that will trigger this world's next cycle of destruction and rebirth.】

  【Mission Reward: 30,000 points】

  All things have birth and death; worlds are no exception. This is an inescapable natural law, even if the cycle of destruction and rebirth is immensely long.

  So long that countless civilizations and eras will rise and fall within it.

  But this cycle exists.

  Mei didn't know when the conditions for this world's next destruction and rebirth would appear. Perhaps she could create such an opportunity herself.

  Passive waiting would take far too long.

  Furthermore,

  The insights gained from observing the truth led to a deeper understanding of certain concepts, resulting in a significant upgrade for the Guaranteed Hit ability.

  【Upgrade Successful】

  【Guaranteed Hit ·LV12?】

  【Guaranteed Hit ·LV13?】

  …

  【Guaranteed Hit ·LV20?】

  The interface displayed a series of upgrade notifications, culminating in LV20, at which point Mei fully digested the insights gleaned from observing the truth.

  After breaking through to LV20, the Guaranteed Hit concept underwent a major, higher-level enhancement, achieving the effect of a higher-level concept.

  ——

  【Ability: Guaranteed Hit】

  【Level: LV20】

  【Description: Every attack has a 100% chance of triggering an absolute hit effect. Even unseen targets, as long as their existence is known, can be targeted by this concept.】

  ——

  Previously, Guaranteed Hit required sensing the target's presence before locking on and launching an attack. The new version doesn't.

  Even if unseen or their location unknown, knowing a target exists is sufficient.

  The high-level conceptual force will automatically lock onto the target, guaranteeing an absolute hit. Of course, this process can be disrupted.

  For example, by counteracting conceptual forces of the same level, or by higher-level powers directly suppressing it. This would render the lock ineffective.

  In short,

  The new version of Guaranteed Hit is significantly stronger than before. However, the aforementioned limitations also apply to other conceptual forces; manipulating concepts requires adherence to certain rules.

  At this point,

  Mei had completed all ten upgrade tasks, advancing the main mission to the Tier 5 stage—apparently the final stage.

  Hum—

  After bestowing a final random reward upon Mei, the Book of Truth escaped her control, vanishing completely into the void, leaving no trace.

  Mei pondered.

  What kind of event or power could trigger the world's destruction?

  A year later.

  In a Platinum City tavern, Locken was elated, slapping his professional adventurer's certification onto the bar counter, looking around triumphantly.

  "Boss, where's the old girl who bet against me?"

  "Haven't seen her."

  Immediately,

  Locken laughed: "I told you I'd pass the exam! I win this bet, Boss! Pay up!"

  Mei hadn't appeared for a long time; the bartender figured she probably wouldn't return, and he was just about to hand over the 20,000 Nak when Mei pushed open the tavern door.

  "Sorry, I'm late."

  "Even if you weren't late, you still lost!"

  Locken quickly pocketed the 20,000 Nak. A year ago, if he hadn't been drunk, he wouldn't have easily bet 10,000 Nak.

  He'd regretted it sobering up.

  Luckily, he hadn't lost.

  "Haha, I'm not one to welsh on a bet."

  Mei placed some souvenirs on the bar. The familiar bartender placed a colorful drink in front of Mei. "Cocktail, our newest creation."

  Mei took a sip, offering praise.

  "It tastes great."

  "Huh?"

  Locken curiously examined Mei's souvenirs, his expression surprised. "Souvenirs from the Euc Kingdom, the Skoll Kingdom, and the Tatra Civilization? You've been on quite the grand tour this past year, old friend!"

  In this era, those daring enough to travel the world were either foolish or possessed the strength and power to guarantee their safety; otherwise, they'd vanish in a heartbeat.

  Locken's eyes lit up.

  It seemed this old friend was quite powerful.

  "Old friend, you're quite the hidden powerhouse!"

  "You've got a keen eye."

  Mei flicked a coin onto the bar: "Another bet. This time, the stakes are the location of a lost relic from an ancient civilization. If you win, I'll tell you where it is."

  "Really?!"

  Lost relics from ancient civilizations held undeniable appeal for adventurers. Locken was excited; he was looking to make a big score and gain some fame.

  "Heads!"

  "Tails!"

  Mei didn't use causal manipulation; it was a pure test of luck. Locken's luck wasn't quite up to par; he missed out on the relic's location.

  "I win."

  Mei pocketed the coin. After finishing her cocktail, she stood up to leave. Locken grumbled, "Don't run away after winning! I'll be here next year!"

  "Okay."

  The bartender silently watched their agreement, feeling like he'd witnessed something significant. Would these two return year after year for another bet?

  Just as the bartender suspected.

  The third year.

  A bruised and battered Locken sat dejectedly at the bar. A travel-worn Mei appeared, and the bartender, as usual, served her a new cocktail.

  He added, "That kid got beat up."

  Hearing this,

  Locken mumbled,

  "It was a master!"

  He sounded unconvincing. He'd luckily obtained a divine artifact from a ruin last year and was feeling quite confident, only to be brutally beaten recently.

  The key was he didn't even understand why he lost. His opponent hadn't used any external objects, simply overwhelming him with martial arts.

  "A master?"

  With that,

  Mei flicked a finger; her hand never touched Locken, yet he flew backward, dazed, crashing into the tavern wall.

  "That's what you call a master?"

  Immediately,

  Locken's eyes widened. Ignoring the pain, he scrambled to his feet, his face eager for knowledge: "Old friend, how… how did you do that? What technique was that?!"

  Mei didn't hide anything. An aura faintly emanated from her hand as she revealed a new world to Locken: "This is called Willpower."

  "Willpower…"

  This simpleton had been a professional adventurer for two years and still hadn't awakened his Willpower. He hadn't been as lucky as Sullivan, lacking a good mentor.

  Feeling Mei's Willpower, Locken stood dumbfounded, realizing that such a power existed in the world.

  "It's a product of mental and life force combined. Everyone possesses this latent power, but some never awaken it, while others are naturally gifted."

  Mei retracted her Willpower.

  Adding, "If you can't even master Willpower, you won't survive in a world of strong individuals. Your efforts will be wasted."

  "I can learn it?!"

  Locken was ecstatic, nearly kneeling before Mei. "Elder brother—no, Big Sister—Master! Can you teach me how to master Willpower?"

  Mei produced five coins.

  "Master is a bit much. Same rules. Another bet. If you win, I'll teach you. If you lose, you'll have to find someone else."

  "Heads!"

  Locken didn't hesitate.

  "Then I'll go with tails."

  Clink—

  The coin landed. Mei opened her hand; it was tails. True to her word, she left the tavern, leaving Locken looking dejected.

  "Damn my luck!"

  Locken angrily downed a beer.

  Though unable to receive Mei's tutelage, he knew what to do next—something worth celebrating.

  He recalled a veteran adventurer.

  A thoughtful look crossed his face.

  "I'll go visit that veteran."

  Regardless, Willpower was the ticket to the world of the strong, and he would master it!

  He couldn't help but wonder, "Boss, who is that old friend?"

  "Don't know."

  The bartender was meticulously polishing glasses. He only knew this person had been a regular at the tavern for decades—a familiar face among familiar faces.

  Investigating customers was reckless and dangerous.

  "What's his name?"

  "Don't know."

  The bartender claimed ignorance about everything.

  The fourth year.

  Locken was once again excited, arriving early at the tavern and spending the entire day drinking, but Mei didn't appear.

  He was disappointed.

  "That guy might have been killed. He likes wandering around too much."

  The bartender thought that was highly unlikely, calmly replying, "That gentleman doesn't come every year. Sometimes, he'll only come once every two or three years."

  "Alright."

  Locken found Mei mysterious and sincerely hoped nothing had happened to her. In reality, Mei had simply gone to a more distant location.

  The fifth year.

  Mei finally reappeared. An extremely confident Locken couldn't contain his curiosity and decided to test Mei's power.

  His own strength had improved significantly after mastering Willpower, a vast difference from before. He was feeling rather cocky.

  His eyes shone with determination.

  "Let me see your strength, shall we?"

  Despite his newfound power, Locken challenged Mei, a perfect example of overconfidence.

  Mei didn't refuse.

  "I don't mind."

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  "Then let's go outside!"

  Locken, eager for a fight, was about to push open the door, but Mei remained seated, calling him back.

  "No need. Here is fine."

  "Here? We might damage the tavern…"

  Hum—

  Before Locken finished, the moment their eyes met, an immense, overwhelming torrent of Willpower, like a raging ocean, swept over them in an instant.

  Invisible waves passed through, yet not a single object in the tavern was damaged.

  In that moment,

  Locken shuddered.

  Compared to this overwhelming Willpower, his own self-assured power was merely a drop in the ocean, utterly insignificant.

  No chance of resistance!

  "This… this is the Willpower of a true powerhouse…"

  Locken's eyes rolled back, and he fainted, experiencing for the first time the terrifying Willpower of a top-tier powerhouse. In fact, not only him—

  Even the Tulip Grand Marshal would lose consciousness here. If Locken dared to consider Mei as a lifelong goal to surpass…

  The probability was infinitesimally small.

  "Thank you for the hospitality."

  "You're welcome."

  Ignoring Locken, who lay unconscious on the floor, the bartender watched Mei leave, letting Locken remain there for the night.

  "Achoo!"

  The next day, Locken woke up to the morning chill.

  Dazed.

  From that day on, Locken realized that this "old friend" was an unfathomable, supremely powerful individual. The more he interacted with her, the more mysterious Mei seemed.

  Over the next decade and a half, Mei would sometimes visit the tavern for a single day for several consecutive years, drinking a glass of liquor before leaving.

  Sometimes, a year or two would pass without her appearance.

  Time flew by.

  Twenty years had passed since Locken's first bet with Mei at the tavern. The bartender, once middle-aged, was now an elderly man, his face etched with wrinkles.

  Fortunately, his mental and physical strength remained sufficient to run the tavern. His children seemed disinterested in inheriting it, suggesting the tavern might close soon.

  Decades later, Mei's appearance hadn't changed a bit, something that amazed the bartender, though he was long past being surprised.

  "Miss, your appearance remains unchanged."

  "You've aged considerably."

  "That's true. After several decades, people do age. Perhaps in a few years, this tavern will close. I don't know how many years I have left."

  For a small person, his life had been fulfilling, without regrets. His greatest pleasure was the annual meeting.

  Locken sat at the bar, familiarly raising a glass of beer and draining it in one gulp, letting out a satisfied sigh. "This beer is still the best!"

  He then turned to Mei, his mouth twitching. "Speaking of which, did you eat a dragon's heart or something? How come you haven't aged a bit?"

  Clink!

  Mei didn't answer, simply tossing a coin onto the bar. For twenty years, they'd kept their annual meeting at this tavern, making their usual bet.

  Locken wiped the beer foam from his mouth, tossing the coin with the same enthusiasm as before. "What are the stakes this time?"

  Mei didn't answer directly, instead studying Locken.

  "You seem to have hit a plateau."

  "As expected of you. You see it at a glance."

  "If you win, I'll teach you how to break through your plateau. If you lose, I'll take the Willpower you've cultivated over the past twenty years."

  Locken's face darkened.

  "How ruthless!"

  Either start over or break through. After some thought, Locken decided to accept the bet.

  "Deal!"

  ...

  "Heads!"

  "Tails!"

  This time, Locken chose tails.

  The coin landed.

  Tails.

  "I win!"

  Locken jumped up, excited.

  Mei kept her word, teaching Locken a method for breaking through his current plateau—not a Willpower technique.

  It was a completely new power called Analytical Art.

  Calling it entirely new wasn't entirely accurate. It was a technique Mei obtained by simplifying her Conceptual Counter-Creation ability to its extreme.

  It couldn't reach any high-level power related to conceptual force; it only possessed the function of analyzing and decomposing all things. A reverse-engineered technique.

  In fact,

  It originated from ancient metallurgical art—a reverse-engineered technique. Mei hadn't created a new power system; it was still essentially based on this world's system and power.

  Passively waiting for the next cycle of destruction and rebirth was too time-consuming. Mei chose to create the opportunity herself.

  Analytical Art was the method. Developed to its limits, it might actually destroy the entire world—tremendous potential.

  Before teaching Analytical Art, Mei had a request: "The condition is simple. If the opportunity arises, I need you to teach this technique to more people."

  Locken was puzzled.

  "What constitutes the right opportunity?"

  "You decide."

  "No problem."

  Mei wouldn't impose rigid requirements or restrict Locken, but the power of causality, subtly working in the background, would begin to influence events.

  The seed was planted.

  Mei silently observed its effects.

  If it sprouted, that meant the opportunity had been successfully created. Under the impetus of time, it would accumulate more and more immense power like an oil slick.

  Until a certain limit.

  Destroying this world once again.

  Mei often used causal manipulation, but creating a butterfly effect in this way was a first. The leverage spanned an immense temporal distance.

  So vast that it might take billions of years.

  In this world, the current era was at the beginning of a new rebirth, as the previous destruction hadn't been long ago.

  Moreover,

  The truth had just been repaired.

  The flourishing of this cycle hadn't arrived, let alone the final stage of destruction. With the passage of time, the world would gradually repair itself under the impetus of truth.

  Accumulating sufficient power to usher in a new era of prosperity.

  The twenty-first year.

  Locken had completely mastered Analytical Art, using it to further enhance his strength, successfully surpassing his previous peak.

  Clink—

  That year,

  As the two arrived at the tavern, a middle-aged man in noble attire pushed open the door. He carried a walking stick and was impeccably polite.

  "Gentlemen, may I join your wager?"

  In recent years, Mei and Locken hadn't tried to hide their bets, but the long intervals between each bet meant they hadn't drawn much attention.

  But someone eventually noticed.

  Perhaps out of curiosity, or perhaps because it seemed interesting, Crison decided to join the wager, waiting a year.

  Mei didn't mind.

  "Please, feel free."

  "Thank you."

  Crison sat at the bar, his demeanor refined, a stark contrast to the rough-and-tumble Locken.

  No one cared about Crison's intentions or motives. Mei didn't mind; Locken didn't mind. From now on, the annual wager in the tavern would have another participant.

  Locken suggested, "Since there's another person, let's ditch the coin toss. We've been doing it for years; it's time for a new game."

  "I brought playing cards."

  With that,

  Crison produced a finely crafted deck of poker cards from his bag.

  Locken had never heard of them.

  "Poker?"

  Crison explained, "It's a new card game quite popular among the nobility. There are many variations, from simple to complex, and it can be played with any number of people."

  He opened the deck, began shuffling, and explained the rules to Mei and Locken. Then he asked Mei, "Miss Traveler, what's the wager for the loser?"

  Mei had no specific idea.

  She casually said, "The loser pays for the drinks this time."

  "No problem."

  "Understood."

  Even with such a small stake, Locken and Crison had no objections; they weren't playing for profit.

  It was just a meaningless game that continued year after year.

  Or rather,

  It made the wager more interesting.

  A year passed, and the three men arrived from different parts of the country at this old, run-down tavern for a card game with a wager of less than 100 Nak.

  How curious.

  Even if it was completely meaningless.

  Crison, with a confident smile and considerable experience, played his hand first, watching Mei and Locken's final showdown.

  Ultimately,

  Locken lost without a doubt. He was the only one among them playing poker for the first time; lacking experience, even with good cards, he didn't know how to play them.

  "Boss, the bill!"

  He slapped 100 Nak onto the bar.

  The brief poker game ended. Crison adjusted his hat, reminding Mei before leaving, "Miss Traveler, the Skoll Kingdom is currently vying for maritime trade rights with other kingdoms. A war is likely. If you're traveling there, try to avoid sea travel."

  "Thank you for the warning."

  "You're welcome."

  Then,

  Crison, using his walking stick, boarded the carriage waiting outside the tavern and disappeared down the road. At the same time, Mei continued on her path.

  "Burp—"

  Locken belched, beer bottle in hand, and left the tavern.

  On the road,

  The carriage's bodyguard asked Crison, "Miss, why participate in such a meaningless and boring wager? Is it really that fun?"

  "Indeed."

  Crison smiled. "It's incredibly fun."

  Precisely because it was meaningless, because there was no reason, it was the most fun. He'd almost forgotten the joy of acting without instinctual desires or profit motives.

  It was like the feeling of casually picking up a straight, sword-like branch on the roadside as a boy, then basking in the envious gazes of his friends.

  That kind of feeling.

  The following year,

  Creak!

  A weary young man pushed open the tavern door, a wide grin spreading across his face. "I heard there are some incredibly bored individuals here. May I join you?"

  And so,

  Another person joined the annual tavern gathering.

  Unknowingly, the annual tavern wager had evolved from two participants to four, the game shifting from coin tosses to poker.

  No one ever inquired about each other's identities or backgrounds. They gathered briefly for a meaningless wager, the stakes determined entirely by whim. Mei often suggested the wager, and few ever refused.

  They addressed each other by titles: Mei was the Traveler, Locken the Adventurer, Crison the Noble, and the newest addition, the Mercenary.

  The Mercenary was the youngest, but versatile.

  The twenty-fifth year.

  Before everyone arrived, he spent some time painting an oil painting. The tavern was depicted under soft lighting.

  At the bar, the Traveler, Mei, sat quietly drinking. Leaning against the wall was the Adventurer, a cigar clenched between his teeth.

  The unassuming bartender meticulously polished glasses, his posture still erect despite his age. He'd also conveniently included himself in the painting.

  The Mercenary, dressed in black, sat in a corner, observing the scene and adding color to a sketch.

  Finally,

  Clink—

  The sound of wind and rain accompanied the opening of the door. The Noble, arriving late, removed his hat, offering an apologetic smile.

  "Apologies, gentlemen. I'm late."

  At this point,

  The painting was complete.

  "Not bad."

  Mei, unnoticed, stood beside the Mercenary, expressing her approval of his painting skills. It truly was a good painting.

  "Thank you."

  "What shall we call it?"

  The Mercenary pondered.

  "Hmm… let's call it 'The Tavern.'"

  Then,

  He hung the oil painting, titled "The Tavern," on the wall next to the bar. The bartender hammered a nail into the wall to secure it.

  "Mercenary, your painting skills are delightful!"

  As a member of the upper class, the Noble possessed considerable artistic appreciation, lavishing praise on the Mercenary's work.

  "Haha, thank you for your compliments."

  "It's nothing special."

  Only Locken, lacking any artistic sense, found the painting unremarkable. He asked the Mercenary, "How did you, a soldier, learn to paint?"

  The Mercenary smiled.

  "As life goes on, one should try to leave something behind."

  During the card game, Mei, engaged in conversation, recalled a rumor: "I heard the Skoll Kingdom is developing a large-scale weapon of mass destruction."

  The Skoll Kingdom wasn't large, but Vivian possessed significant financial resources, having developed the kingdom well in recent years. Coupled with their advanced technology, they'd been developing such weapons.

  The rumors persisted.

  "It's been many years,"

  The Mercenary, active on various battlefields, was well-informed. "But it's just a rumor. The maritime trade war has been going on for years, and we haven't seen their so-called weapon of mass destruction used."

  Crison disagreed.

  "From what I understand, it's more than a rumor. The Skoll Kingdom might keep their technology and achievements secret, but their economic output and resource allocation aren't hidden. A simple analysis reveals massive resource investment in the royal scientific institute."

  The Mercenary understood Crison's point.

  "You mean they're developing something that requires significant investment, right?"

  "Exactly."

  "A weapon of mass destruction? How large-scale? Could it raze a city to the ground? If it can achieve that level, it might qualify."

  Old Locken was now a proper Tier 3, capable of causing catastrophic damage on a scale of natural disasters. If the Skoll Kingdom's secret weapon couldn't match that level of destruction, it was essentially useless.

  This world had plenty of monsters.

  He glanced at Mei.

  Such as this one.

  Mei, feeling playful, suggested, "Let's make that the next wager. If the Skoll Kingdom uses its secret weapon before our next meeting, I win. If not, I'll give each of you a surprise."

  "Deal."

  Crison eagerly awaited Mei's surprise.

  The Mercenary was somewhat worried. "I should stay away from the Skoll Kingdom battlefield. If they really use that weapon, it'll be a real mess."

  "Heh heh!"

  Locken patted the Mercenary's shoulder, urging him not to worry, then slammed down a pair of tens, ending the hand. "Kid, you're last."

  The conversation drifted.

  The men weren't overly concerned about the Skoll Kingdom; they only occasionally checked the news.

  Until the following year.

  A world-shaking news report swept across the globe: the maritime trade war had ended, with the Skoll Kingdom deploying its secret weapon.

  Securing victory instantly.

  Crison stared at the newspaper in disbelief, finally learning the name of the Skoll Kingdom's weapon of mass destruction.

  "Nuclear bombs?"

  He understood the implications. This was a product of advanced technology. The Skoll Kingdom could mass-produce these things and use them like fireworks.

  That was the most frightening aspect.

  A single nuclear bomb could destroy a city, turning the surrounding ten kilometers into barren wasteland, and it seemingly released a deadly toxin.

  Once infected, there was virtually no cure.

  The world's power structure was about to shift!

  The twenty-sixth year.

  "Gentlemen, it seems I've won!"

  Mei held a black egg, instantly capturing everyone's attention. Locken was dubious, his mouth twitching.

  "That wouldn't be…"

  "A dragon egg."

  Mei added, "A Bone Dragon egg. I found it while traveling and brought it back."

  Pfft!

  The Mercenary sprayed beer.

  "A Bone Dragon?!"

  Others might not know, but he did. Decades ago, a Bone Dragon appeared during a war between two major Legions, nearly killing both Legion commanders.

  The creature was incredibly ferocious.

  "You plan to raise a dragon?"

  "No."

  Mei paused, then said something that made everyone's eyebrows shoot up: "Actually, I think a boiled egg would taste best."

  "..."

  "..."

  "..."

  Boiled egg???

  Mei then changed tack: "But I'm not sure, so I'll let you decide. Whoever wins this round gets to dispose of the egg however they like—boiled, fried, steamed, baked, whatever."

  Excellent!

  Everyone perked up.

  They were in for a delicious treat.

  ...

  Mei and the others had expected more participants, but the number remained at four.

  Perhaps due to the Bone Dragon egg, their strength and lifespans increased, their appearances noticeably younger and healthier than before.

  However, dividing a single Bone Dragon egg among several people meant a limited lifespan increase. Sadly, the Mercenary didn't have the chance to experience extended life.

  In his 30th year, he stopped attending, never reappearing. As a mercenary, he likely died on the battlefield.

  Locken, however, felt the Mercenary hadn't suffered a loss.

  "Living past thirty is already a long life. Mercenaries sell their lives for money; dying on the battlefield is their best possible outcome."

  From then on,

  One person was missing from the annual gathering. The elderly bartender, however, remained surprisingly healthy, though his posture was no longer as straight.

  Only the painting, "The Tavern," remained on the wall. As time changed, fewer people visited the old tavern.

  Gradually,

  The tavern became deserted.

  Until one day.

  Mei arrived as usual, only to discover the tavern abandoned; the main door forced open, and most of the contents stolen.

  She looked at the wall next to the bar.

  Empty.

  Even the Mercenary's painting was gone, leaving only a nail and the outline of the painting on the wall. Sunlight streamed through the open door, illuminating the dust motes floating in the air.

  The bartender was gone.

  Mei rolled up her sleeves, opening the tavern windows to air it out. Soon, various types of liquor were arranged on the bar.

  She'd had cocktails before; Locken preferred beer; Crison enjoyed wine—all were present. Mei poured herself a drink.

  She sat at the bar, silently drinking.

  After a long while,

  Creak—

  The door opened.

  Crison, with his usual refined mannerisms, entered, seemingly unconcerned about the tavern's looted state.

  His gaze immediately went to the painting on the wall.

  He asked, "Where's the painting?"

  "Stolen."

  Mei hadn't bothered to trace the painting. "Hopefully, a connoisseur bought it. If not, it's likely been burned."

  "A pity."

  Crison expressed his regret; it was a valuable and memorable artwork, worthy of being considered a masterpiece. The Mercenary's painting skills had been exceptional.

  It was fortunate that the abandoned tavern hadn't become a squatter's den, and even more fortunate that it hadn't been set on fire.

  Crison asked, "Where's the bartender?"

  "Don't know."

  Each person had their own life; Mei didn't pry. Unknowingly, the number of regulars had dwindled.

  "Bartender, I'm back!"

  The ever-boisterous Locken burst through the door, shouting before realizing no one was there. He surveyed the looted tavern, seemingly understanding what had happened.

  "..."

  Instead,

  He grinned. "Heh heh, my friends, I've got a new toy! It supposedly extends lifespan! Come check it out!"

  The frigid air was momentarily dispelled.

  Times change.

  Time flies.

  In the blink of an eye, it was the hundredth year of the tavern's game. Only then did Locken and Crison begin to show signs of aging; the Bone Dragon egg's effects were wearing off.

  Crison accepted his aging calmly. The extra years were a bonus; greed leads to perpetual dissatisfaction.

  He was content.

  He looked at Mei, eternally youthful, untouched by time or the world. Not a single wrinkle.

  He wondered how long Mei would live—could she be immortal?

  No.

  Crison shook his head, dismissing the absurd thought. Immortality was impossible.

  It existed only in legends and myths.

  Locken, curious, asked Mei, "Old friend, how many years do you think we have left? At this rate, we'll soon be kicking the bucket."

  "Probably a few decades."

  Mei didn't specify, and Locken didn't press further. It was a casual question; knowing the countdown to the end of one's life wasn't a pleasant experience.

  One hundred and seventy years.

  The old tavern was dilapidated.

  That year, Crison failed to arrive. His bodyguard brought a farewell letter written by Crison before his death. He'd passed away on his way to the tavern.

  A sudden illness had claimed him.

  "Another one gone."

  Locken put down Crison's farewell letter. There were no tears between men. The letter was simple and heartfelt; he was dying and unable to attend the wager.

  Locken wasn't doing much better. His hair was almost entirely white, his face lined with wrinkles. Though his body remained strong, the signs of old age were evident.

  He looked at Mei again.

  As he had when they first met, Mei showed no signs of aging. He truly suspected this being was immortal.

  Locken sighed. "I probably don't have many years left. Old friend, you might not find me here next year."

  Mei teased Locken, a rare occurrence.

  "What? Thinking of making a fortune before you die?"

  Her words sparked an idea. Locken stroked his white beard, his eyes shining. "That's not a bad idea!"

  The following year,

  No significant news emerged from any nation. Perhaps it was a self-fulfilling prophecy; Locken died of a sudden illness in some unknown place.

  When Mei returned to Platinum City, the old tavern had been demolished and replaced with a medium-sized auction house.

  She entered the auction house.

  A middle-aged man stood on the auction stage, holding up a familiar painting, eloquently praising its artistic value.

  "5 million Nak!"

  A young man, appearing to be a nobleman, raised his bidding paddle from the audience, decisively outbidding everyone else.

  Mei sat a few seats away from the young nobleman. After the painting was sold, she left. As she passed, she overheard the nobleman's friend asking why he'd bought the painting.

  The young nobleman replied, "I can't explain it. But this painting is incredibly important to my grandfather. He's been searching for it for many years. It's his dying wish."