Chapter 8

The community where Jiang Zhulang lives is an old community that is more than 20 years old.

Most of the permanent residents are elderly people, so community workers often come to organize community activities that can benefit them.

Sometimes he received eggs, sometimes he received rice and flour, and he once received a dozen apples.

"Xiao Jiang, you're here again." The person in charge of the activity greeted him.

"This time we will visit the charity foundation first, and then listen to the lecture of the farmer-aid organization next door. You can come in the afternoon."

She looked very familiar with Jiang Zhulang.

Among a group of gray-haired old men and women, there is a young man, not to mention he is so handsome, it is impossible not to notice him.

He is a frugal young man who only participates in activities where he gives out gifts. Even if it is just a roll of toilet paper, you can still see him after the event.

Come to think of it, he has moved to the community for more than a year, but it seems like he has never seen his parents or friends?

I haven't heard of his job? Isn't he a graduate from a prestigious university?

The person in charge looked at him in confusion and decided to find some time to chat with the community gossip group.

Jiang Zhulang nodded politely and said, "I have nothing to do today, so I can attend the whole thing."

——Take the community bus to the destination.

Well, that's the main purpose.

I learned from the event registration group that the address of the farmer assistance lecture is on the outskirts of the city. There is no transportation from the city. If you want to get there, you either have to take a taxi or take a bus.

Obviously, he is not the kind of person who would ignore the free bus and take a taxi at his own expense.

The person in charge nodded, called the group of senior citizens who were gathered together to chat, and led everyone to the car.

After a two-hour drive, we arrived at the Charity Foundation.

Jiang Zhulang followed the crowd out of the car and looked at the building in front of him.

It is a low five-storey single-family building, with only the white brick exterior wall facing the main entrance, while the other three sides are cement-coloured roughcast.

So shabby.

In his stereotype, charitable foundations are all magnificent and magnificent, and there are two words written all over Hun: rich.

This foundation is like a self-built house, too plain and simple.

Soon, the introduction by the person in charge dispelled his doubts.

This is a newly established foundation dedicated to helping out-of-school girls in impoverished mountainous areas. The president has invested all his assets in the cause of providing education and has no extra money for decoration, let alone publicity and promotion.

If it weren't for community activities, there would be no visitors here for several months.

After looking at the photos on the wall, Jiang Zhulang felt a little heavy-hearted. He thought of an internet friend he had briefly met.

She is smart and talented, and has great painting skills. She can draw lifelike characters even on waste newspaper. She can use pencils and erasers in many different ways.

Jiang Zhulang often discussed painting techniques with her.

After that, she never went online again.

After a long time, Jiang Zhulang learned from her Penguin Space message board that in order to support her brother's schooling, her parents forced her to drop out of school and get married.

She was unwilling, and after a fierce quarrel, she jumped off the building and died.

"Everyone, if you are willing, you can donate. The more money you donate, the more hope they will have..."

Jiang Zhulang came back to his senses and looked at the payment code next to the commentator.

Most people in the community group were indifferent, but a few were moved and scanned the code to donate.

Jiang Zhulang opened the comic cat backstage and found that the work had received 3,200 rewards.

He counted on the calendar, walked to the donation counter, and scanned the code to pay: 1,000 yuan.

Jiang Zhulang casually put the souvenir handed to him by the tour guide into his pocket, turned around and walked away quickly.

"Xiao Jiang, you..." The person in charge looked at him in surprise, thought for a moment, and swallowed his unfinished words.

After donating the money, Jiang Zhulang was in a daze throughout the second half of the journey until he was notified to collect the prize.

I'm lucky, I got camellia oil and dried meat this time, so I can have a good meal for a while.

After washing off his tiredness, he sat in front of the computer and recalled today's schedule. He thought a lot, but it seemed like he was thinking of nothing. He sat there for a long time and picked up the digital pen.

There is no point in thinking too much. It’s time to draw.

*

Oran Village, Nidos Continent

More than half a month had passed since Lanno and Roshia left the village. On this day, the arrival of a group of visitors broke the tranquility of the village.

"Is this the place?"

A young man walked out from under the embrace of men in black robes, with a look of contempt and a high-pitched, thin, drawn-out voice.

He was pale and dressed in fancy clothes. He seemed to be in poor health and would cough uncontrollably after walking a few steps.

The boy had long light blond hair and a high chin, looking very arrogant, but his short height made his posture look a bit funny.

The villagers were detained, trembling, looking at him in confusion and fear, wondering how a small mountain village like theirs could attract the attention of such a big shot?

A man in a black robe leaned forward and said respectfully, "Yes, Master."

"Very good." The young man raised his chin almost to the sky and looked down at the village chief: "I heard that there is a man in your village who is good at invention?"

"Tell me where he is."

The village chief kept silent. The person who came had bad intentions and was obviously heading straight for Roshia.

In the past, I repeatedly misunderstood him because of his appearance, causing him to suffer a lot of injustice. Now that the misunderstanding is resolved, how can I betray him again?

Sensing his resistance, the boy snorted coldly: "You won't tell me?"

He sat on the wooden stool brought by his men and waved his hands gently, looking relaxed.

Next moment:

"ah--!"

The man in black robe raised his sword and cut off an arm and a leg of the village chief.

The splashing blood and broken limbs frightened the villagers and made them scream.

"Uncle!" Half a dozen children broke free from their restraints under the deliberate water release by the black robe, threw themselves on the unconscious village chief, and burst into tears.

The young man smiled, and after seeing enough of the bloody scene, he continued, "I'll ask again, where is he?"

The villagers looked at each other two, still hesitating, and the man in black robe raised his sword.

"I say, I say!"

"How could you...ah!"

The man who tried to stop them was chopped down with a knife. He trembled even more violently and stammered, "He, he left the village half a month ago... Well, we, we don't know where he went..."

"He, he, he, it seems that he is going to travel to the mainland! Really, I am not talking nonsense, this is all I heard..."

After hearing this, the boy's face turned even uglier, from blue to black, and he gritted his teeth and ordered: "Search for me, check every house!"

"As for these people... leave no one alive."

…

Coming back to his senses from the dizziness of the shuttle in consciousness, Jiang Zhulang discovered that the world did not go back, but continued naturally at the time of dreaming and waking.

Sure enough, he guessed correctly.

Without death, time and space will not flow backwards, it will just be paused.

When he returns again, the stagnant time will continue to flow.

At this time, he and Roshia were resting at the inn, preparing to go to Nadine City.

This trip was to attend the annual flower festival in Nadine City, where countless rare and exotic plants are on display.

"…The scene was bloody and horrifying!"

"The whole village of 20 to 30 people were killed? No one survived?"

"They said that everything in the house was rummaged through. I think it was a robbery."

"That doesn't mean you'd kill them all. What's the grudge? Tom, tell me what's going on."

The discussion of the messengers caught the attention of the two men. Roshia stared at them intently, feeling anxious for some reason.

Jiang Zhulang held his chin and thought:

How come he didn't remember that he had arranged a plot to massacre the whole village?

Could it be that the world consciousness automatically completes it?

Yes, world consciousness.

Jiang Zhulang had long discovered that there was an unnamed force in the comic book world that filled in the gaps between the outlines and plots, thus avoiding logical errors.

He could not find any other reason except the completion of world consciousness.

It can't be a bound forum, no, a salvation system.

Tom, who was called out, trembled, took a sip of water, and said softly, "Yes... Lan Village, everyone is dead, all dead. When I went in, it was full of corpses, piled on top of each other, and the stench was overwhelming. The sky was full of vultures, the ground was full of wild wolves... and, and there were maggots, worms, snakes, and rats..."

Because of fear, he spoke incoherently and his words were not in order.

Roshia stood up suddenly, knocking over the wooden table with sloping legs without caring. He grabbed Tom by the collar and asked, "What village?"

With a great movement, the hood of the cloak slipped off, revealing Roshia's unusual appearance.

Everyone in the post station was stunned.

Tom swallowed his saliva and said in a trembling voice under the gaze of his protruding eye: "Oh, Oran Village..."

“Boom!”

The tea bowl in Jiang Zhulang's hand fell to the ground. He couldn't believe what he heard.

Oran Village...?

How is that possible?

How could the whole village be massacred...?

In the original story, they were always safe...

Isn't he the author? How could the plot deviate from his settings?

Is it because of him?

Because he wanted to change the ending of Roshia, and under the flapping of the butterfly wings, Orlan was massacred?

Because he couldn't find Roshia or MSI, the furious villain decided to massacre the entire village to vent his anger...?

His neck was stiff, and he staggered sideways, and saw that Luo Xiya's eyes were red and he was crying bitterly.

Jiang Zhulang felt his thoughts drifting away, and he stood there numbly, without moving.

How could they die?

"It's my fault. I should have thought of it earlier..."

In a trance, Luo Xiya heard Lan Nuo mumbling, he choked and said: "No, it has nothing to do with you, it's a thief, a hateful thief!"

He clenched his fists, feeling hatred and pain.

"No, it's not a bandit, it's..."

What is it?

He didn't say.

Under the horrified gazes of everyone in the inn, he stretched out his hand, activated his arcane magic, condensed the invisible energy into a sharp knife, and stabbed it towards his own neck without hesitation.

"Lanno!!"

Looking at the panicked Luo Xia, Jiang Zhulang thought:

Just wait, it will be back soon.

Aolan Village will not be massacred.

Waking up from reality, with no time to recover from the pain, Jiang Zhulang picked up his mobile phone and bought two hot pots from the convenience store downstairs.

He had never drunk alcohol, let alone such strong liquor.

After taking just a sip, Jiang Zhulang felt dizzy. He forced himself to close his eyes, and soon he was back to the continent of Nidos.

He was already quite skilled at rewinding. He calmly watched the rewinding process, and finally, it stopped beside the mountain spring.

He and Lohia were spearing fish but had no luck and had to eat black bread to fill their stomachs.

Not this day.

After his consciousness returned to his body, Jiang Zhulang condensed the Qi blade once again.

Blood dyed the stream red.

This time, he woke up at the edge of the caravan territory. The caravan that happened to be traveling the same way as them was counting the goods and calculating the profit.

Not this day either.

The hand rose, the knife fell, and blood spurted everywhere.

Jiang Zhulang repeated the cycle of opening his eyes - drinking - closing his eyes - returning to the game, constantly watching time and space reverse and the years flow back.

Before I knew it, the bottle of wine was finished.

His consciousness was hazy, and he couldn't tell whether what he saw was reality or a dream. He stared blankly at the warm yellow light.

The yellow light swayed, like mist, like water, spreading and permeating.

Finally, he saw himself standing in front of the carriage, about to set off. A wooden sign beside the winding road faintly read: Oran.

Finally, I found it...

He staggered towards the direction of Oran Village, running at a tireless speed, and what came into his sight was a sky full of blood red.

A familiar face can be vaguely distinguished in the distorted gray face.

The village chief, Auntie Jili, the freckled girl...

He was still late.

It doesn't matter, he can continue.

Jiang Zhulang raised his hand, only to find that his whole body was in unbearable pain. His brain felt as if it was being pierced and stirred by thousands of fine needles, causing a splitting headache.

“Hmm!”

He fell down with his head covered. The system, which had not appeared for a long time, spoke: "Host, you can't go on. Your body is on the verge of collapse."

"…You know how to do it, don't you? How to change it."

"Sorry, the system does not have permission."

"laugh."

Jiang Zhulang lay on his back on the ground with his arms and legs spread. He felt a familiar sense of detachment and knew that he had failed again.