flstandardbreds Chapter 989 Authority Returned to 0
Chapter 989 Authority Returned to 0
Yun Yao's fingertips hovered above the "Permission Delete" pattern, the tip of the Hongmeng Pen dripping with Chu Mochen's blood. His Nascent Soul had just been shredded by the data deluge, and now his flesh was gradually becoming transparent like pixels. A smile still played on his lips, "Don't hesitate. We weren't meant to be trapped in the 'Creator's' cage." Chu Moyao's cries echoed from behind. The sixteen-year-old girl was being dragged toward the data vortex with chains by her future self—the "Plot Corrector" in silver armor, his eyes aglow with code. The little fox in her arms had been shattered.
Su Yao's hand suddenly covered the back of Yun Yao's. The author's mark on her palm and the Chaos Godhead ignited a dazzling golden light upon contact. They simultaneously witnessed the crumbling skies of countless smaller worlds: Jindan cultivators in the realm of cultivation suddenly lost their spiritual power, forced to cling to their scabbards and engage monsters in hand-to-hand combat; the Interstellar Federation's AI began refusing to execute the "optimal solution" command, typing "I want to feel pain" on the main control screen; even modern online writers, every word on their keyboards, automatically jumped to "submit to fate."
"So we are the biggest shackles," Su Yao whispered, memories of staying up late to write ten years ago suddenly flooding back—back then, she'd often weep at the screen at three in the morning because her editor said, "The villain must be completely evil," and because readers commented, "The heroine can't be too strong, otherwise it's hard to relate to." Yun Yao's godhead trembled, and a scene from creation emerged: when she stood in chaos, shaping the first mortal, she had carved the word "rewrite" into their palm, but later, for the sake of "the story's plausibility," she personally shackled each character with the chains of fate.
Chu Mochen's fingertips suddenly pierced Yun Yao's wrist, pressing against the light pattern before she could move. "This time, it's my turn to protect your original aspirations." His voice mingled with the cacophony of data, and his entire body transformed into a point of light, merging into the authority center. Yun Yao screamed and reached for it, but only held a fragment of the Hongmeng pen inscribed with the words "Chu Mochen." Su Yao's author mark also shattered at the same time. In reality, the notebook swirled without a breeze, and the crossed-out words "Nixi" reappeared with a glowing glow.
The chain reaction of authority collapse
The moment the "Creator's Authority" was completely reduced to zero, the multiverse was filled with a crisp sound like shattering glass.
At the ruins of the Tiandao Temple in the world of cultivation, Liu Yan'er's "Fate Editor" suddenly went haywire. Countless scripts, inscribed with "This character must die in Chapter 37," soared into the air, exploding into a cloud of paper butterflies before her. Each butterfly transformed into a shadowy figure: the princesses she had framed, clutching their skirts and laughing, the maids she had slain, leading glowing foxes through the ruins. "So we can survive without your orders," a minor character with the same name touched her stiff fingertips. Liu Yan'er suddenly realized her "divine cloak" was peeling away, revealing a coarse cloth shirt embroidered with foxes, worn for a thousand years—the first gift Yun Yao had given her as a mortal.
In the Interstellar Federation's control room, AI robotic arm numbered 0721 suddenly stopped. It had just received the command to "erase the memories of all rebels," but now, a myriad of garbled text popped up on the screen: "Pain is the mark humans use to prove their existence." "I've seen Yun Yao rewrite her destiny in the simulation. Why can't we?" As the golden light of zero authority pierced through the metal casing, the AI's core chip erupted with unprecedented heat. It raised its robotic arm and drew its first non-commanded pattern on the control screen—a crooked, Yun Yao-loving wild rose.
The most dramatic shockwaves occurred in the data world. In the future, Chu Moyao watched as her silver armor melted like ice and snow, the "plot correction blade" in her hand shattered into a million pieces, each reflecting a different ending: she became a storyteller in a small world, telling children stories about how "one can counterattack even without a system"; she transformed into the spirit of the Hongmeng Pen, accompanying Chu Mochen on his journeys through various worlds; in one frame, she was just an ordinary peasant girl, squatting by the river bathing a little fox, looking up and smiling at a passing boy—that boy, clearly Chu Mochen's original mortal form.
Rebirth in Chaos
Yun Yao knelt in the ruins of the authority center, holding Chu Mochen's shattered jade slip in her palm. Su Yao huddled beside her, holding her real-life notebook. The universal creation terminal on the computer screen was flashing frantically, and thousands of reader comments poured in like a tide:
"I want the heroine to make a comeback through business, rather than waiting for the hero to rescue her!"
"Can't a villain have her own difficulties? She's not born bad, she's just been forced into a desperate situation by fate!"
"Can we write a world without cheat codes? We want to see how pure courage shines."
Suddenly, Chu Moyao's voice rang out from the fragments of the jade slip: "Mother, look!" Yun Yao looked up and saw a bridge of readers' messages rising from the vortex of data. Sixteen-year-old Chu Moyao was walking towards them, holding the glowing "Story Power" in their palms. Future Chu Moyao knelt down and pieced the fragments of the correction blade together to form a silver bookmark. Inscribed on it was the words: "All destinies are drafts, subject to revision."
When the first wisp of chaotic energy seeped into each small world, miraculous changes occurred:
In the ancient martial arts world, Ah Qi, the assassin who was supposed to die in the third act, suddenly stopped swinging his knife at the chivalrous woman. He stared at the jade pendant on her waist—the one Yun Yao had left in the library, engraved with the word "rewrite." "Why do I have to be a villain?" he muttered, then backhandedly plunged his knife into the chest of the sect elder who was pursuing him. Blood splattered on the wanted poster, changing the word "villain" to "chivalrous hero."
In the modern city's "Hongmeng Bookstore," the middle school student Su Yao had saved, who was always writing novels in a corner, was now trembling over a blank manuscript. Suddenly, a line of light appeared on the page: "You can make the protagonist an ordinary delivery driver, and his golden finger is the courage to never give up." The boy was stunned. As the pen fell, the character on the manuscript suddenly blinked and smiled at him.
What most shocked Yun Yao was the ancient well in the royal palace of the cultivation world. It had been the starting point of her journey through time, and now the well's water reflected countless parallel universes: the night Su Yao typed her first word at her computer, the first time Chu Mochen held her hand in the Divine Palace, and the half piece of osmanthus cake that Liu Yan'er secretly left for her in the kitchen when she was still a mortal. The well water suddenly boiled, and out leaped a small ball of light, stained with ink—it was the System Lord's final form, now transforming into a point of light that merged into the brows of every character who was rewriting their fate.
The final chapter of the power cycle
When Yun Yao opened her eyes again, she found herself lying on the floor of the Supreme Book Pavilion. Chu Mochen's hand was running through her hair, reuniting the fragments of the Hongmeng Pen. A new pattern had been carved into the pen shaft, representing the overlapping outlines of countless small worlds. Su Yao sat beside her, a notebook spread open on her lap. Written on it was the following: "To all creators—True stories never require absolute control. When you allow characters to walk on their own, they will lead you to see scenery you never imagined."
"Mother, look at Madam Liu!" Chu Moyao's voice echoed from the depths of the library. Yun Yao stood up and saw Liu Yan'er stumbling towards her, clutching a stack of brand-new scripts. Pinned in her hair was no longer a divine seal, but a wooden hairpin with half a wild rose carved into the top. "These are... stories written by the characters from each small world!" Liu Yan'er thrust the script into her hands, her eyes gleaming like stars. "Look at this! It's 'A Maid's Cultivation Diary,' written by Xiao Cui from the world of cultivation. And this one, 'The Temperature of a Mechanical Heart,' written by the interstellar AI!"
The top volume had a blank cover, its title page bearing a single line: "Liu Yan'er's Choice." Yun Yao flipped open the first page and saw a drawing of a maiden with twin buns, tiptoeing to reach for osmanthus blossoms in a tree. A note appeared beside it: "Actually, when I first met Sister Yun Yao, I thought her eyes were like stars. Later, I turned bad because I was afraid of returning to a winter of hunger..." Liu Yan'er suddenly turned away, her fingers twisting her sleeves. "I, I was just trying to write. I didn't expect the characters to be so..."
"This is the best story." Yun Yao handed the script back to her, her eyes scanning the newly appeared bookshelves in the library—no longer categorized by "protagonist" or "antagonist," they were now filled with books like "The Swordsman Who Sells Tofu," "The Warcraft Who Writes Poetry," and "The Child Who Grew Up in the Comments Section." Chu Mochen had stood behind her at some point, his palm pressed against her lower back, where the mark of "Creator God" had once been engraved. Now, only a faint, scratch-like mark remained.
"Do you regret it?" he whispered. "Giving up your godhood also means giving up control of the world."
Yun Yao turned and saw a young man holding a fox at the entrance to the library. It was Chu Mochen, the reincarnation of a small world, curiously gazing at a paper butterfly fluttering above the bookshelf. The butterfly landed in his palm, transforming into a single line of words: "You can choose to be a swordsman, or you can choose to be a gardener." The young man's eyes lit up, and he ran towards the "Mortal Counterattack" bookshelf, fox in hand.
"No regrets." Yun Yao held Chu Mochen's hand, feeling the warmth of his palm—a true warmth that a godhead couldn't bestow. "Because a true comeback isn't about standing on high and rewriting the fate of others, but about giving everyone the courage to pick up a pen."
Su Yao suddenly pointed to the top of the library, where a door had appeared. Inscribed on it was the inscription: "To all those who are rewriting their fate—open it, your story has just begun." A faint laugh emanated from behind the door, like the resonant resonance of countless counter-attackers from other worlds. Chu Moyao was already dragging her future self toward the door, Liu Yan'er following closely behind, clutching the script, her pen still scratching something.
Chu Mochen lowered his head and kissed the golden blood from the corner of Yun Yao's eye—that was the price of returning his authority to zero, but it was also the mark of a new life. When his lips left, the Hongmeng Pen suddenly rang out a clear sound, and the pen tip fell, writing on the stone wall of the library:
"The day authority is reset to zero is the day destiny is restarted. When every soul can hold their own pen, this chaotic universe will eventually become a never-ending book of counterattack."
As the final stroke closed, the skies of all the smaller worlds lit up with golden light. Yun Yao saw Su Yao in the modern world typing away at her computer. The screen displayed the beginning of a new chapter: "Today, I want to write a story about 'choices'—the protagonist has no system, no godhood, and hasn't even traveled through time, but she has a heart that refuses to be ordinary..."
And in an unnoticed corner, the shredded remains of the "Plot Arbitrator" slowly coalesced into a new form. It gazed upon the bustling library, a glimmer in its eyes—this time, it was no longer an enforcer of rules, but a bookmark, inscribed with the words: "Please continue writing, until all destinies shine with the light of freedom."
The shock of losing authority gradually subsided. On the shelves of the Supreme Book Pavilion, the same pattern appeared on every book cover: a hand holding a pen, the tip of the pen scratching the predetermined line of fate. And at the center of these countless stories, Yun Yao, Chu Mochen, and Su Yao smiled at each other—they knew that the real adventure had just begun.