Foolish Game of the Gods - Chapter 175

As the roots of the Conjugated Whispering Tree lost their nourishment, they automatically withdrew from Cheng Shi’s body, retreating back into the void cracks.

The grand scholar, who had been filled with anticipation, now stared in shock at the growth curve displayed on the screen in front of him, which had already reached its peak.

He couldn’t believe it—couldn’t believe that the theories upheld by his department for centuries had failed so utterly under his watch.

Trembling, he pressed a button, and as the alarm blared, the glass walls around them lowered in unison.

Freed from their constraints, the lush branches immediately spread out, creeping into the laboratory.

The rustling of the branches sounded like the hesitant footsteps of a newborn, slowly shuffling toward the grand scholar. Vines and leaves wrapped around him, as if embracing him.

And the moment the scholar’s hand touched the leaves, he broke down, wailing uncontrollably.

It was wrong.

He was wrong, the Void Matter Theory department was wrong, and the entire Tower of Logic was wrong.

No one knew that this experiment would yield no results.

No one realized that a five-hundred-year dream would never come to fruition.

No, perhaps someone did know.

No—there must have been gods who knew.

Perhaps They had known all along, but They never offered any warning.

Cheng Shi finally understood why [Truth] had never protected His followers in this historical account—because He had long known that the Void Matter Theory department’s research would lead to nothing.

[Void] and [Existence] would never allow [Civilization] to seize Their power.

And of course, [Truth] was coldly indifferent.

For five hundred years, He watched His followers work like fools, never once offering a word of warning.

Perhaps, in His eyes, these oblivious, unreflecting “fools” didn’t deserve His attention, nor were they worthy of His guidance.

But why, then, had He decided in this trial to show His followers a conclusion with no real ending through [Fate]’s script?

Was it out of some grand mercy?

A final closure?

Cheng Shi didn’t know.

He looked at the grand scholar, who was crying out in anguish, and all that echoed in his mind were the words Kuwei had just uttered:

“He is merciful. He wanted me to personally complete the final step of this experiment.”

Heh, yes, He’s certainly “merciful.”

By allowing the grand scholar to personally shatter the illusion that had persisted for over five centuries, He showed Kuwei the truth—that he, his predecessors, his teachers, and his students, all those who had devoted their lives to this pursuit, were fools.

How ironic.

This so-called mercy was nothing more than forcing a long-forgotten follower of [Truth] to recognize that they had completely strayed from the path of truth.

The word “cruel” was no longer enough to describe the coldness of it all.

This reminded Cheng Shi of another saying:

Truth is an eternal law, devoid of any emotion.

And this was the perfect reflection of the [Truth] Cheng Shi had come to understand in this moment.

His mind raced with countless thoughts, his expression a mix of complexity and frustration.

Cheng Shi gazed at the “barren” Conjugated Whispering Tree in front of him and the broken grand scholar, who now lay on the ground, crying tears of blood.

He let out a long, heavy sigh.

“Well, there it is. No flowers, no fruit, no compromise, and soon…

There’ll be no me either.

Grand Scholar, can I ask you one last question?

If I take back some leaves from the Conjugated Whispering Tree, do you think they might have the same effect as a petal?”

Kuwei, still clutching the branches in his arms, lay half-prone on the ground, his ears deaf to all sound.

His blurred eyes gazed up at the canopy of the tree, and it seemed as if he saw a brilliant flower blooming at the top of the Conjugated Whispering Tree, radiating the colors of reality.

When he blinked again, the vivid petals had already withered, and beneath them, a transparent fruit, intertwined with streaks of black light, began to take shape.

The grand scholar smiled in contentment.

“Look… Look… it’s blooming!

It’s bearing fruit!

That’s the [Void’s] fruit, born from the flower of [Existence]!

We weren’t wrong!

Look, quickly, look!

Our experiment—it wasn’t wrong!”

Cheng Shi followed Kuwei’s gaze, looking up at the vast green “canopy” above.

But there was no [Existence] flower there… nor was there any [Void] fruit…

Heh, he’s lost his mind.

Cheng Shi chuckled bitterly and looked back down at Kuwei, only to realize that the last grand scholar of the Void Matter Theory department had already passed away.

But his eyes remained open.

There was a satisfied smile on his face, and his arm was still raised, pointing unwaveringly at the Conjugated Whispering Tree—the tree he had devoted his entire life to…

The arm never fell.

No one had known that the key to the High Wall of Knowledge was Kuwei’s life itself.

The moment he died, the Death’s Bell Knights, who had been clamoring outside the wall, burst into the “impenetrable” void fortress with wild cheers.

Countless scholars stood on the suspended walkways, neither panicked by the invasion nor fearful of their comrades’ deaths. They simply stood there, staring.

They stared at the highest laboratory, at the displays showing the growth curve of the giant tree reaching its peak and then declining, at the Conjugated Whispering Tree, which was supposed to blossom and bear fruit—but showed no signs of change…

Each of them, like lost souls, gazed blankly ahead, their eyes devoid of any glimmer of hope.

“This can’t be! This is impossible!”

“Why!? How could it be wrong!?”

“This is a lie! I don’t believe it—it’s a lie!”

“It’s an illusion! This is [Chaos] at work! It’s the Death’s Bell Knights playing tricks on us!

We can’t believe it! This is an illusion!”

“The experiment isn’t over! The experiment can’t have no result!!”

Yet no matter how much the scholars wailed, no matter how much they wept and screamed, the conclusion could not be changed.

Chaos had already flooded in, and the death knell had already tolled.

All they could do now was cry out in despair.

When the bell tolls, cry out in anguish!

At that very moment, Cheng Shi’s companions, who had entered the prying mirror with him, were finally spat out by the void.

They landed on one of the walkways near the highest laboratory, and as soon as they touched down, they saw a dozen or so scholars with twisted expressions charging toward them.

These people weren’t targeting the group but rather the laboratory behind them!

“This can’t be!

The experiment can’t have no result!

Even if someone tried to muddy the waters, Kuwei wouldn’t be foolish enough to let someone steal everything from him.

He must have hidden the fruit! He didn’t have time to escape!

The perimeter is sealed off!

Right now, he’s definitely still in the laboratory!

For the glory of [Chaos], we must obtain it!”

Even these infiltrators of [Chaos] didn’t truly know whether one of their own had tampered with the cognition of everyone inside the experimental site.

But they believed it was true.

Because this is [Chaos], and it doesn’t need a reason.

Ji Yue stood at the forefront, her brows furrowed, holding her spear as she stared at the madmen rushing toward them. She quickly placed herself in front of everyone.

“I see Cheng Shi inside. Go get him!

Find out what happened. Even if there are no petals, get the first-hand experimental data!

I can only hold them off for three minutes.

Don’t waste my spears—go!”

Like a commanding general, she swung her spear, and countless cracks opened in the void around her.

Through the cracks, one could see a battlefield in the depths of the void, blood flowing like rivers in a scene of utter desolation.

Countless spears shot out from the void, piercing the ground in neat rows, forming a barrier to block the advancing enemies.

And then, without warning, two pitch-black hands appeared above the heads of the scholars, crashing down toward them!