Thanks to Cakeoverlord for the kofis! Enjoy the bonus chapters!

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Jian Xingyi thought to himself, I was wrong; this dungeon wasn’t just targeting high-level players.

It targeted everyone equally.

Jian Xingyi was trembling all over.

What if he made the wrong choice?

If he made the wrong choice, he would end up killing Shanhai.

For a moment, Jian Xingyi panicked. He thought of the pouch of wisdom in his backpack—would it tell him the right answer?

What about the Wish Bottle? If he made a wish, would the system help him kill the fake Shanhai?

But just as Jian Xingyi was about to open his backpack, No. 2 suddenly and unexpectedly lunged forward, aiming his long gun at No. 1. No. 1’s eyes darkened, and he counterattacked immediately.

“You two…!”

Just as it seemed the two were about to aim their guns at each other’s hearts and die together, Jian Xingyi instead aimed his gun at his own temple.

Jian Xingyi said, “If I die, this dungeon can’t continue, right?”

“Click.” Jian Xingyi pulled the trigger.

In that very instant, No. 1’s eyes widened in fury. Even as No. 2 seized the opportunity to draw his gun and aim it at him, he paid no heed, charging instead toward Jian Xingyi. “Xinghe…! What are you doing?!”

No. 2 seized the moment to aim his gun at No. 1 and pulled the trigger, ready to kill him.

Bang—!

No. 1 and No. 2 both stared in shock.

No. 2 stared blankly as he touched his head; his hand was covered in blood.

—Jian Xingyi had fired at No. 2.

No. 2’s body lurched to the side and collapsed, his form beginning to fade.

Jian Xingyi stepped forward and saw that No. 2’s head and face were covered in blood; he lay in the snow, his breathing growing faint.

【Player 【Shanhai】 has killed 【themselves】, successfully proving their resolve.】

—Jian Xingyi’s gamble had paid off.

No matter how similar they were, data could never perfectly mimic a real person’s reactions. So Jian Xingyi deliberately aimed the gun at himself. As a data entity, No. 2 could not possibly predict No. 1’s move—exposing his own vulnerability, placing himself in a state where he could be killed at any moment, just to stop himself.

After all, they were still in the midst of battle; their sole thought was to kill the other and claim victory.

In that moment, No. 1’s emotions overrode his reason, confirming to Jian Xingyi that No. 1 was the real Shanhai.

No. 1 was also the first to call out the name “Xinghe.”

No. 2’s face turned pale. His clothes began to change—no longer what Shanhai was currently wearing, but… a military uniform.

Jian Xingyi saw the name tag “Lu Yan” on the chest of the uniform.

Number 2 had now transformed into Lu Yan.

Lu Yan turned to look at Shanhai. Before he completely vanished, he chuckled softly, “Don’t forget, I am the true you… deep within your heart. I may be dead, but Lu Yan will never truly die.”

Lu Yan then looked at Jian Xingyi: “You killed me… but one day, he will become me too. Who knows… he might even… kill you as well…”

Then, unexpectedly, Jian Xingyi crouched down and embraced Lu Yan. “I’m sorry…”

Even if the person before his was merely a phantom—a false entity created by the simulation, just like the “Jian Xingyi” he had killed earlier—he still bore Shanhai’s features. He was “Lu Yan.”

Jian Xingyi said softly, “But you’re wrong. Lu Yan wouldn’t hurt me.”

“The Shanhai I know is someone who protects me and makes me feel safe. I’ve never met Lu Yan, but you said yourself that Lu Yan is a part of Shanhai. So why should I be afraid of Lu Yan?”

Lu Yan froze, and Shanhai, behind him, stared blankly at Jian Xingyi.

In that moment, Jian Xingyi recalled the memory orbs he had seen in the temple. In the second one, he had foreseen Shanhai’s death—exactly the scene unfolding before his eyes.

Just like in the memory orb, the person in his arms was shot in the head, killed with a single shot, and then slowly stopped breathing, before fading away. Jian Xingyi turned to look at Shanhai.

Only then did Shanhai notice that Jian Xingyi was trembling all over.

Jian Xingyi had never killed anyone before. Even though Lu Yan was merely an illusion, firing a gun at someone he cared so deeply about still left him feeling a lingering sense of dread.

Thankfully, he hadn’t bet wrong…

This was foretold in the memory bubble—a trial destined for them. If he had bet wrong, the one who would have vanished in his arms would have been the real Shanhai.

Shanhai stepped forward and pulled Jian Xingyi into his embrace.

The vast difference in their sizes allowed Jian Xingyi to curl up completely within Shanhai’s arms. Feeling Shanhai’s body heat, heartbeat, and breath, he smiled softly and said, “Shanhai.”

“Mm.”

“Shuixi.”

“Mm.”

“Lu Yan…”

Shanhai fell silent for a moment before replying, “Mm.”

Jian Xingyi said, “Don’t take what that phantom said to heart. I trust you—what he said will never happen.”

The Snow Mountain dungeon was a place of treachery and betrayal; Jian Xingyi feared Shanhai might be swayed by those illusions.

Shanhai closed his eyes and said, “But you don’t know what I was like before.”

Jian Xingyi reached out and embraced Shanhai in return. “So what? No matter what you’ve been through in the past, you are who you are now—the person I know. That’s enough.”

Jian Xingyi paused for a moment before continuing, “And… do you believe that the moment I saw you just now, I already had the answer in my heart?”

People who spend every day together can naturally tell at a glance; even if appearances are identical, one can still distinguish them by their demeanor and mannerisms.

Still, Jian Xingyi dared not jump to conclusions just yet. What if he was wrong? The cost of being wrong would be far too high.

Shanhai buried his face in the crook of Jian Xingyi’s neck. “Thank you.”

In that moment, Jian Xingyi had resolved the emotional knot and nightmare that had plagued him for so long; suddenly, all his worries seemed unnecessary.

Jian Xingyi was so gentle, as if he would accept anything that happened.

A moment passed.

【Player 【Xinghe】 and Player 【Shanhai】 have passed the trial and may proceed to the next stage!】

A new memory bubble appeared nearby.

“Alright…” Jian Xingyi broke free from Shanhai’s embrace. “The top priority right now is to tend to your wounds!”

Jian Xingyi could smell the scent of rust on his nose; he didn’t dare hold Shanhai too tightly.

Shanhai was covered in injuries from head to toe; just looking at him was painful.

After Jian Xingyi tended to Shanhai’s wounds, the two headed toward the next memory bubble.

Upon arriving at the new, snow-white area, Jian Xingyi froze.

A wooden cross stood planted in the snowy ground before them. The adult Holy Son they had encountered earlier in the dungeon was now bound to it. His white robe fluttered lightly in the wind and snow, his body pale and bloodless, as if he had become one with the heavens and earth.

Jian Xingyi and Shanhai walked forward.

In the previous instance, the Holy Son had been shrouded in holy light, and Jian Xingyi hadn’t been able to make out his features clearly. But now, he could see him perfectly—it was the same youth he had encountered in the memory bubble before.

Only now, the once-innocent youth had matured into a Holy Son with refined features, his gender indistinguishable.

Upon seeing the visitors, the Holy Son merely blinked lightly. His eyes held no emotion—or rather, nothing at all; they were merely a physical organ.

Jian Xingyi drew his blade, but as he looked at the figure before him, he was suddenly transported back to the memory bubble, recalling the sweet-voiced youth who had called him “Brother Xinghe.” For a moment, he was lost in thought.

Shanhai took the blade. “I’ll handle this.”

Jian Xingyi watched as Shanhai drove the blade precisely into the Holy Son’s chest, swiftly ending his life.

As Shanhai moved, a hurricane swept up around them, the wind carrying the biting cold of ice and snow—a blizzard had returned…!

【The Holy Son’s physical form, along with the world’s final memories, will vanish; only the Spirit will remember—】

【The Holy Son is dead; heaven and earth mourn—】

Whoosh—

Jian Xingyi could even feel the earth and sky trembling, the wind and snow growing ever more fierce.

A new memory bubble appeared in the distance; that must be their escape route.

Shanhai took Jian Xingyi’s hand, and the two fled together toward the memory bubble, pressing forward against the wind and snow.

Whoosh—

After leaping into the memory bubble, Jian Xingyi was plunged into darkness, and the system’s voice rang in his ears.

【Congratulations to player 【Xinghe】 on successfully clearing the Thousand Bells Snow Mountain – Heart of the Snow Mountain dungeon—【Snow Mountain Saint II】! Reward: 666,666 dawn coins, Wish 【100 Million dawn coins】!】

Yay! His 100 million had been successfully credited to his account!

The progress bar had advanced significantly!

【Detected that Player 【Xinghe】 possesses the 【Savior System】 and the rare item 【Snow Spirit Talisman】. Upon completing this dungeon, the 【Snow Spirit Talisman】 has been upgraded: the limit of three questions per month will be changed to three conversations!】

Jian Xingyi was deeply shocked.

Does that mean he’s no longer limited to three questions, but can ask and answer as many times as he wants?

Jian Xingyi checked the details.

Each conversation lasts 10 minutes…

Alright, but that’s already way better than three questions!

Unfortunately, he didn’t know what to ask right now, so he hadn’t used it yet. After all, a one-month cooldown is a long time, and Jian Xingyi didn’t want to waste it on experiments.

【Player 【Xinghe】 helped Player 【Shanhai】 defeat 【themselves】, unlocking the special achievement 【Helpful】. Choose one of the following rewards: 1. One additional Wish selection; 2. Increase the reward of an existing Wish by 50%】

Jian Xingyi: “……!”

Jian Xingyi hesitated.

An extra wish meant he could choose between Essence Points or farmland—a huge temptation—but right now… he was most in need of money.

In the end, Jian Xingyi could only close his eyes, tears welling up, and select the 50% bonus reward.

【Player 【Xinghe】 has received 150 million dawn coins!】

Yay…!

After claiming the rewards, Jian Xingyi opened his eyes again and found that he and Shanhai were already outside the dungeon entrance.

Jian Xingyi blinked.

The first thing he did upon exiting was check the guild logs.

With the dungeon completed, there were now four days left until the Zombie Tide.

Long Live for A Hundred Years

610 million / 750 million dawn coins

680,000 / 750,000 Wood

86,000 / 150,000 Zombies Killed

Yay…! The dawn coins he earned from the dungeon had already been added to his total.

Jian Xingyi looked utterly satisfied.

Two rows of question marks appeared in the Long Live for A Hundred Years guild chat.

Lone Wolf: 【?? Xinghe, did you rob a bank?】

HiHi: 【???? Where did you get all that money? I haven’t seen you list any items, and items can’t possibly sell for a hundred million all at once, right?】

Heiye: 【Hmm, could it be that you unlocked the black market in the game? A single kidney for a hundred million…】

Jian Xingyi couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time.

Xinghe: 【Shanhai took me through the Snow Mountain Heart dungeon. The rewards were generous.】

Lone Wolf: 【……Damn, I’m so jealous. It’s great to have a boyfriend!】

Akita: 【@Lone Wolf ?】

Haihai: 【Holy crap, no wonder… Damn, I’ve been shown up again!】

Heiye: 【Shanhai is seriously awesome!! Such a high-difficulty dungeon, and he took you through it—just the two of you, without any outside help, and you breezed right through it…!】

Jian Xingyi thought to himself, Actually, clearing this dungeon wasn’t easy at all…

The dangers inside were insidious and deadly. Having adventured with Shanhai for so long, this was the first time he’d felt his heart race in a dungeon—and even now, after claiming their rewards, he still felt a lingering sense of dread.

The Snow Mountain dungeon really does target your nerves!

Shanhai asked, “Where do we go next?”

Jian Xingyi replied, “Either retrace our steps, or head straight to the Snow Mountain to gather resources? Isn’t Snow Mountain the richest source of resources right now?”

Shanhai said, “Yes, but it’s also the place with the most players.”

In the past, Snow Mountain was rarely visited due to its harsh environment, extreme temperatures, and great difficulty. But once players learned of its abundant resources, guilds from all over the server started forming parties to challenge it. After all, there’s safety in numbers, so Snow Mountain is now teeming with people, and the resource supply has gradually dwindled.

Shanhai said, “If we’re going to chop wood, we might as well go back to the Fire God’s Belly.”

True, but…

Jian Xingyi was a bit troubled. What their guild lacked most right now wasn’t wood—in fact, their wood stats were actually the best.

What they were currently short on was money and zombie kill counts.

But in any case, the Snow Mountains weren’t an option for the two of them, and with the zombie tide about to begin, Jian Xingyi couldn’t be bothered to go soak seeds in the Ice Lake; he was more focused on dawn coins now.

So the two decided to retrace their steps.

After walking for half a day, they left the Snow Mountain area, took off their coats, and boarded the wooden boat once more.

The boat drifted on the underground river beneath Flag-Raising Mountain. Jian Xingyi was feeling a bit tired, so he lay down on the boat to rest, letting it drift with the current.

Shanhai paused for a moment, then lay down beside him.

The two lay close together in the small wooden boat, their breaths mingling.

When Jian Xingyi’s gaze met Shanhai’s, he reached out and covered his eyes, whispering very softly, “Don’t… look at me like that.”

If Shanhai were a seasoned lover, he wouldn’t have revealed the intensity and tenderness in his eyes so unreservedly.

But he wasn’t, so he simply stared at Jian Xingyi, utterly bewildered.

And if Jian Xingyi were a seasoned lover, he would have recognized the love Shanhai couldn’t hide.

But he wasn’t, so he just felt his cheeks flush and his whole body grow uneasy.

“Oh, right,” Jian Xingyi said. “Is Lu Yan your real name?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Jian Xingyi smiled and explained, “My name is Jian Xingyi. The ‘Jian’ in ‘simple’… the ‘Xing’ in ‘good fortune’… and the ‘Yi’ in ‘windfall’!”

Shanhai froze.

Huh?

Shanhai was dumbfounded and asked in a very soft voice, “Am I the first one to know this?”

Jian Xingyi was a bit puzzled—what kind of reaction was that? But he still nodded and said, “Yes.”

Shanhai visibly brightened up, like a child who’d just received a gift. “Then can I call you Xingxing?”

Jian Xingyi’s cheeks flushed even redder. “Y-yeah, sure…”

Shanhai fell silent for a moment before saying, “The Lu Yan you saw in the dungeon was my past self. Before I started playing the game, I was a soldier under the Alliance.”

Jian Xingyi paused.

The Alliance was the governing body of the real world; this holographic game had only been able to develop so rapidly thanks to the Alliance’s investment.

“I was trained from childhood to be a killing machine. I knew nothing but killing. Later, I was injured and temporarily retired. But after retiring, I found I couldn’t fit into society or become a normal person.”

In this deserted underground space, Shanhai spoke to Jian Xingyi at length, “The doctor said I have post-war PTSD. I could snap and hurt someone at any moment. Also, because of the thermal weapons I used before, I have neurological disorders—I might lose my mind and go crazy.”

“Bai Jie and Le Ke were my colleagues. They also retired due to injuries and struggled with PTSD. At the time, one of the younger doctors suggested we play holographic games—venting our frustration on data monsters to relieve stress—as part of our therapy.”

That’s how Grapevine Peak came to be.

After playing the game together, the three of them founded a guild to make leveling up easier. Worried that regular players wouldn’t keep up with them, they set a requirement that only players at T1 or higher could apply for membership.

Unexpectedly, Grapevine Peak grew into the top guild in the entire server.

Jian Xingyi was stunned by what he heard.

So that’s how it was…

Shanhai’s world was truly different from his own. He was just an ordinary office worker with a nine-to-five job, yet Shanhai had endured so much suffering he couldn’t even imagine.

Jian Xingyi gently took Shanhai’s hand.

Even just this tip of the iceberg was enough to break Jian Xingyi’s heart, but what Shanhai didn’t mention was that Bai Jie and Le Ke’s PTSD wasn’t as severe as his.

Since Shanhai was one of the Alliance’s top combatants still alive at the time, his aftereffects were bound to be even worse… so severe that he nearly took his own life because of them.

But even though Shanhai hadn’t spoken of it, Jian Xingyi could guess that the process behind it all was certainly not as straightforward as Shanhai had made it sound.

Jian Xingyi didn’t think too much about it; he simply instinctively cupped Shanhai’s hand and gently placed a kiss on the back of it.