Chapter 197: The Last Orphan of a Dying World
Though it hadn’t been by choice, Xu Zhi now understood that simply being born in the Federation — and surviving to this point — meant she had already become entangled in a vast conspiracy.
And now that she was about to step beyond the “Federation,” she doubted freedom truly awaited her. At best, she would merely be leaving one chessboard… to enter another, much larger one.
Layer upon layer of schemes — and she was the anomaly, the variable that didn’t belong. And variables, by nature, were meant to be eliminated.
No matter how she looked at it, her situation after leaving would be dire. But now was not the time to dwell on that.
The thunder in the sky had weakened, but the aura of the [Chalice] was also fading, dissipating as the crack in the heavens widened. Both sides were reaching their limits — a victor was about to emerge.
At that critical moment, the disturbance caused by Xu Zhi drew both combatants’ attention.
Before, her presence wouldn’t have been enough to warrant notice. But the instant she “broke through,” her aura — the essence of Xu Zhi — flared to life, faint but impossible to ignore, like a small lamp igniting in the dark.
When the nameless Archbishop turned toward her, Xu Zhi realized that the once–crushing gaze that had terrified her no longer held the same weight. Partly because of her advancement — but mostly because the Archbishop was exhausted and gravely wounded.
[Even if He empowered the Archbishop to replace Himself, granting strength he should never have had — the Archbishop is still just an Archbishop. Your chances of victory are far better now.]
Xu Zhi smiled faintly as she drew her blade.
“That sounds like you never really believed I could win before.”
But the moment her hand touched the hilt, her expression shifted slightly. She could feel it — a power within the blade that didn’t belong to her.
Turning around, she saw that the place where Zhong Lingfan and the others had once stood was now empty. Only a glowing ritual circle remained.
There was no doubt — they were gone. All that persisted was the formation still faintly shimmering with light.
And with just one glance, Xu Zhi understood its purpose: a sacrificial formation, one that offered the souls of transcendents as tribute.
Because of it, her blade still carried the lingering power of Severance — a power that would ignite the wielder’s soul when used. And not just one soul…
Zhong Lingfan, who had acted as the conduit, had clearly offered up her own soul as well. She had used the last flicker of her consciousness, moments before her body perished, to complete the ritual and leave Xu Zhi this final trump card.
But that also meant that the person once called Zhong Lingfan was now completely gone — body and soul both burned away, like life swallowed by the sun.
Why… why would she go so far? Xu Zhi couldn’t understand. Loyalty alone couldn’t drive her to such an extreme — she would have simply died without betrayal, not sacrificed everything. This choice must have been her own.
The Federation’s people were all dead. Zhong Lingfan must have known that only Xu Zhi had any chance to survive.
Even if it meant that only one person could live — she still made that choice. And judging by the precision of the formation, it was something she had prepared long ago.
Xu Zhi couldn’t comprehend it.
She had always said it before — people with the [Lamp] attribute were just like those of the [Chalice]: willing to give up everything for what they believed in. Terrifying faith.
And yet… it was thanks to people like Zhong Lingfan that Xu Zhi now had another card to play.
Realizing Zhong Lingfan’s selfless intent, Xu Zhi suddenly felt a heavy weight settle on her shoulders. When the [Lamp] within her body appeared — its light flowing back into her through the game console — the emotions she had once discarded began to return. Now, she understood what “responsibility” truly meant.
She had never cared much for such things. But seeing that array, knowing someone had willingly chosen to burn themselves away for her sake…
She realized — she now carried the hopes of countless dead souls. Not their wish for vengeance — but their wish that she, as the last survivor of the Federation, would live.
Xu Zhi had never identified as a citizen of the Federation, nor had she ever thought of Cloud City as her home. But now, she could admit it — this land, long since vanished, was her homeland.
And in that moment, when she accepted that truth and faced her heart directly, the energy of the [Lamp] attribute — once trickling slowly toward her — suddenly surged forward, no longer needing the Narrator’s guidance. It returned to where it belonged: to her.
[You’ve grown up a little, haven’t you?]
“Is now really the time to say that?” Xu Zhi tried to keep her tone teasing as before, but it was difficult.
The lightning above ceased.
That didn’t mean the [Watcher] had lost — rather, Xu Zhi’s sudden emergence had brought the battle to a standstill.
[It seems you’ve realized it.]
“Realized… what?” Xu Zhi asked quietly, her eyes fixed on the enemy above.
Her tone wasn’t sharp — if anything, it held faint resistance.
[What I am.]
“A game console,” she replied curtly, dismissive. “I knew that from the start.”
A soft, helpless laugh. Then a gentle sigh.
[Still a child.]
[I told you before — you had to reclaim the things you once threw away. You’ve done well.]
[Now it’s time. I must return to you what was always yours.]
[Use this power — defeat it. Then live.]
Xu Zhi said nothing. It was the final moment — yet her thoughts weren’t entirely on how to win. For once, she simply felt… sad.
Sensing her feelings, that same gentle, familiar voice — her own voice, softer now — murmured:
[Don’t be sad. I’ve always been a part of you. Now we’re just becoming one again… aren’t we?]
Yes.
That voice — it was hers. Hearing it from the outside, she had recognized it only as “familiar,” but now she knew.
The game console had been the first to awaken — her [Lamp] attribute power.
[Amazing. I’ve never seen anyone with such perfect affinity for two top-tier attributes.]
Even now, in the midst of crisis, the Narrator tried to comfort her.
[The Moth really did suit you better then — you made the right choice.]
Discarding the [Lamp] to choose the [Moth] — even with her talent, she couldn’t truly walk both paths. The conflict between attributes was absolute. So, instinctively, the old Xu Zhi had cast aside the [Lamp].
She had despised it — its kindness, its purity, its righteousness. All those “beautiful” things made her sneer.
She had been filled with bitterness, resentment toward the world, unable to suppress her anger. So of course she’d choose the [Moth] — self-absorbed and defiant.
Like a moth drawn to its own flame. The [Moth] was her — and the flame that drew it in was also her.
Once, she had asked if the game console was her extraordinary ability. The Narrator had said no — and it hadn’t been a lie.
The truth was: she had awakened the [Lamp] attribute, but had unconsciously rejected it. The [Lamp] she discarded had then drawn in the wandering [Lamp] fragments of this broken world — and together, they became the game console.
So the console wasn’t her ability — it was a unique “extraordinary artifact” born from her abandoned [Lamp] merging with other shards.
Now, the console was disintegrating, returning all its power to her. And that meant… the Narrator would vanish.
[We were never truly apart.]
After this, it would simply revert to what it originally was — pure attribute energy, without self-awareness. No longer able to speak. No longer with her.
A pity — but inevitable.
[Come on now, cheer up. You don’t want your face to look like that at the end, do you?]
The Narrator even managed a small joke.
Xu Zhi tried to pull her lips into a smile — it came out stiff and unnatural.
[Hideous.]
A mock-complaint, followed by motion. The battered game console floated out of her pocket and rose before her. Its cracked screen flickered once — and a simple pixelated smile appeared.
Then, silence. No more voice in her mind.
The smile blinked away, replaced by white pixel letters on a black screen:
[Smile like this, understand?]
Xu Zhi tried again — still failed.
Above, the clouds parted. The [Watcher] was about to move.
[There’s no time left.]
The words on the screen changed rapidly. The old console’s body began to glow faintly with golden light, flickering as if its power was nearly gone — or as if a new game was about to begin.
[From here on, you’ll have to walk your own path.]
[Xu Zhi, good luck. And remember — I will always, always be on your side.]
The screen went dark.
A gentle golden glow enveloped the console. Before Xu Zhi’s eyes, her last companion — the only one she had ever truly trusted — dissolved into countless points of light, the essence of the [Lamp] flowing into her body.
When it was almost gone, a final fragment remained —
a soft, golden ginkgo leaf, no larger than her palm.
Xu Zhi lifted her hand. The glowing leaf drifted down into her palm, and sank into her skin.
It was a leaf she had once tossed aside without care — and now, it had returned to her.
[I will love you, forever and ever.]
