Mingchao: The Survival Journey of a Comedian

Chapter 128 My name is...

……

So, how many times has he died?

He seems to have forgotten.

Here he endured countless deaths, each death symbolizing his despair and final act of defiance.

He can intervene, he can stop his other self from doing those things, and he can even try to save those people...

But in the end, he discovered that everything he had done was in vain.

His strength matched his own strength at that time—neither too strong nor too weak. Just right…

Not enough for him to save the person he wanted to save.

He was just as powerless as that other version of himself; like that other version of himself, he was just a useless person who couldn't do anything.

He traveled down the path of time, his chaotic experiences, jumbled thoughts, and gradually collapsing emotions making it difficult for him to distinguish between reality and illusion.

He seemed to understand what someone had told him a long, long time ago—

Does it really matter if it's true or false?

For us, distinguishing too clearly between true and false is often not a rational choice.

So what exactly were his experiences in all of this?

Was it a meaningless dream, or... a torment specifically designed to torment him?

But what is the purpose of torturing him like this?

He could have just died, he could have just closed his eyes...

Why force him to open his eyes again and again? Why make him make these futile attempts time and time again?!

why! ! !

"Why don't you know?"

"You're incredibly stupid..."

"They gave you everything you wanted, let you experience everything you'd never experienced before... but in the end?"

"They died because of you, and you're still thinking of using death, such a cowardly way, to escape?!"

"...She really is despicable..."

He was suddenly grabbed by the neck and slammed to the ground. The dust he kicked up blinded him, and he weakly turned his head away, not wanting to look at the person he had just encountered.

Unfortunately, the other person didn't think that way. The blade pierced his shoulder, but the pain hardly stirred any emotion within him. In the end, the other person forcibly turned his head around, forcing him to look at them.

"You possess the same strength as me, yet you don't even have the strength to draw your sword?"

"..."

Don't answer with silence. I hate it when people hide the truth from me.

"Those bastards (expletive) arrogantly blocked this information, forcing us to repeatedly rely on ourselves to collect those things..."

"Things that are so simple to understand, they seem to have lost the ability to even think about them, as if they've had epilepsy..."

"They refuse to disclose information that should be made public, insisting on 'concerns' and such... They'll only regret it when those remaining elephants storm into the city and shave their heads off to use as footballs..."

"What's the use of regretting it back then? Did I start over time again just to save this bunch of bastards?!"

With a twist of his wrist, the blade churned through his flesh, and the excruciating pain surged forth like a tidal wave, finally pulling him back from the brink of unconsciousness.

Looking at his own almost frenzied expression, he finally began to ponder the timeframe in which he would encounter the other party this time.

"...There's no benefit for me in killing you."

"Killing me wouldn't make a difference."

"It's simply a matter of me meeting myself at a different time."

Looking calmly at himself, he felt a pang of sorrow and...heartache for some reason.

He felt sorry for the crazy version of himself in front of him.

Even if the other party is mentally deranged enough to attack you... they are only deranged enough to attack you.

He only harms himself.

He felt the other person pause for a moment, and the next instant, the sword embedded in his shoulder was violently pulled out. Blood streamed down his arm, staining the ground crimson.

Having no desire to live, too lazy even to clutch his shoulder, he closed his eyes, wondering if he would bleed to death, when he heard the sound of his clothes being torn.

"...Move a little further, don't die."

"It's good to have one more person... it'll be faster to start the fight. I won't stop you if you want to die."

The other person's movements were very practiced; it was clear that bandaging wounds with cloth was a familiar thing for them. He let the other person do as they pleased, and before long he felt himself being pulled back from the brink of death.

"...What are you going to do?"

"I can't save them, don't drag me into doing those things."

"Of course I know I can't save them. I know how useless I am."

"So... let's kill those people who killed them before they die."

"What does it matter who's high up or low down... whether they're wanderers or members of the Remnant Star Society..."

"Just kill them all."

"..."

After some time, he felt that he could move his stabbed shoulder a little more. He turned his head and looked at the person whose sword was still dripping blood, and a rare emotion flickered in his eyes.

"...Should we kill them?"

"Otherwise what? Who do you think we can save?"

"We can't be saviors, nor can we be their hope. We're just an unexpected variable here."

"Most of them kill others, some save others... and then later, for various reasons, they die again."

"Since we can't save them anyway, why not try to kill all the people who killed them?!"

He used his other, uninjured hand to support himself against a tree trunk and stood up. The dust he kicked up made him cough twice.

A few drops of blood trickled down the corner of his mouth, which he casually wiped away, his tone carrying a hint of inquiry.

"...Have you already done that?"

The other person nodded nonchalantly, leaned closer, smiled at Mo Wunian who was covered in blood from his beating, and then pulled up some pictures from his terminal and shoved them in the other person's face.

"Otherwise what? Those homeless people made deals with high-ranking officials, trafficked children, distorted the truth, deceived everyone, and rebelled against the Heavenly Gang..."

"Have you seen these transaction details?"

"They completed a total of 216 transactions, in which hundreds of children lost their homes and families due to their actions..."

"Their dealings are wide-ranging, including but not limited to interference in politics and military affairs..."

"How many soldiers who fought valiantly on the front lines died innocently on that distant battlefield because of their actions?!"

"...In the heat of the moment, one stab and they were freed. They really got off easy."

"Even being torn to pieces wouldn't be enough to atone for their sins."

"..."

Seeing that Mo Wunian remained silent, the other party did not let up. He sheathed his sword and casually pulled up other intelligence reports, recounting them word by word to the silent man before him.

The terminal was only put away when the other party seemed to be a little thirsty.

"So you think they don't deserve to die?"

"...Are you sure these things happened on your timeline?"

"?"

"what do you mean?"

Mo Wunian simply gazed at the other person silently, then uttered a few words.

The timeline doesn't match.

"...You actually listened attentively?"

"I thought you'd gone senile long ago."

The other party was somewhat surprised, but not much. After all, although they hadn't known each other for long, based on his familiarity with himself, he could tell that this version of himself had probably gone through many reincarnations.

Although they could sense that the other party's method of experiencing reincarnation seemed different from theirs, their resilience was passable.

"Yes, some of these conclusions are based on my experiences from previous reincarnations."

"So I'll deal with the other party before anything happens, to prevent them from causing trouble."

"Otherwise, it would be much more troublesome."

"...Then what's the difference between us and them?"

"?"

Feeling that he could move his shoulder freely again after being stabbed, a flicker of emotion finally flashed in Mo Wunian's eyes:

It is anger and pain

He swiftly snatched the sword from the ground and attacked, catching the opponent completely off guard.

Without hesitation, he kicked the opponent in the stomach, knocking him back several meters. Then, without the slightest hesitation, he swiftly moved forward and pierced the opponent's neck with his sword.

He coldly stared at the other person's shocked gaze, seemingly not understanding why he had suddenly done this, but the next moment he felt a metallic taste in his throat, and blood instantly gushed out.

"...If you kill me...you won't survive either."

"Clearly...originally..."

"There's no inherent truth to what you're doing... So how are you any different from those other people?"

"What's the difference between us and those who arbitrarily take people's lives and arbitrarily judge others?!"

He abruptly interrupted the other person, not wanting to hear any reasons. He still possessed the rationality to draw his sword and kill himself.

"Nothing has happened yet. There were clearly better options to guide them onto the right path..."

"We just took a life like that..."

"What right do we have to solemnly claim that we're all living for them?!"

"We took up our swords to protect others..."

"If one day, simply because it might happen in the future... an innocent person's life is taken away..."

"So what if we go back to the past...?"

He watched in agony as the person before him, who utterly failed to understand his choice, knelt on the ground.

Yes, he admitted that the other party's actions might not have been wrong, and nipping any danger in the bud was not necessarily a bad thing.

But far too many people didn't intend to get their hands dirty and embark on that path of no return.

Amidst the cries of despair, all living beings are but ants.

In the face of such natural disasters, human nature constantly drives people to take action in order to survive.

People in high positions will use every means to protect themselves.

People at the bottom of society have no choice but to use every means to survive.

No one had a choice; no one had a choice from the very beginning.

"...If in the beginning...there had been no lamentation in the world..."

"Wouldn't many things have been avoided?"

The scent of death enveloped him once more, and that tranquil and peaceful feeling swept over him again, but his thoughts lingered on that one sentence.

If such natural disasters had never existed in the world...would many people have had a happy ending?

……

"……woke up?"

"..."

He didn't open his eyes, realizing he was lying on the ground. He casually rolled over, not wanting to see himself again.