Super Righteous Player-Chapter 1223 - 261: The Variable of the Second Round

...So that’s how it is.

Is this what they call the "Undying Sun"?

Annan knew the name of this Egg of Dream Condensation was the "Undying Sun" before he entered this nightmare.

At first, he thought this world was an eternal daytime scorched wasteland, and reckoned it couldn’t hurt him—Annan, who possessed the Radiant Element, was completely immune to radiation-type damage. Even without the protection of the atmosphere, Annan could live quite well. He could even use it as a weapon to attack others.

But Annan didn’t expect that the form of this nightmare would be such a psychological labyrinth.

Although he’s only experienced the first stage... Annan has already roughly guessed the system and mechanism of this nightmare.

——Why are almost all of Annan’s abilities sealed?

The reason is simple.

Because this is not the real world.

This should be someone’s dream... or rather, a dream within a dream.

"If I’m not mistaken," Annan thought, "this should be related to that fire and heavy smoke before."

Annan hadn’t forgotten a single detail.

When he entered this nightmare, he first appeared on a bed. At that time, it seemed that someone had fed him some medicine, making him dizzy and unable to open his eyes... Immediately afterward, someone raised an axe high towards him.

If nothing unexpected happens.

The world where Annan is now should indeed be an illusion. One level above, it’s the man in the fire.

And maybe there’s a third layer, but... who knows.

Since the Moth Mother named this Egg of Dream Condensation "Undying Sun," it indicates that the theme of this nightmare is definitely this current layer. To some extent, even the name of it is a spoiler for the decryption...

And Annan cannot die in this instance or he would truly die; since Graysmith knew that the Old Grandmother had awakened, and with Paper Princess watching outside, he would not intentionally design to harm Annan... Thus, his complete lack of specific information about the nightmare was undoubtedly because the truth would become apparent at the slightest hint and couldn’t tolerate any spoilers.

——Then the truth of the story must be very simple.

For Annan... the fact that Graysmith "chose not to spoil anything" in itself became another kind of spoiler.

When the sun set, Annan reincarnated back to "Old Grandmother." And with the doctor still behind him, it means the time is at least not the morning of "the second day" from before.

According to Annan’s understanding, this nightmare should have a "soft berserk" mechanism.

Because each time he enters a new identity, the information Annan gets, as well as his field of view, would be exaggeratedly expanded. Such preferential treatment can’t be without cost—once Annan experiences the perspectives of all people, he is bound to solve all the mysteries.

Therefore, the difficulty must lie in the fact that Annan cannot obtain complete information.

If Annan fails to find the ultimate "murderer" within six, seven, or even eight reincarnations, then he might actually die here.

Of course, it’s said that there are six chances...

Actually, Annan already has a rough estimate in his heart now.

If all goes well, just one more reincarnation. By the time the third loop starts, Annan would be able to complete the decryption.

"Doctor," Annan mimicked the cackling laughter of the old woman, whispering to intimidate the burly man behind him, "You seem to have something to say."

"...Is it that obvious?"

The doctor chuckled bitterly: "I am truly sorry for that...

"Do I have to tell the truth?"

"That’s what I would prefer."

Annan replied.

The doctor sighed and said softly, "Old lady, you have some idea about your body’s condition, don’t you?"

Annan kept quiet, waiting for the doctor to continue.

"No matter what, surgery has to be done tomorrow."

The doctor spoke seriously: "Otherwise, it will really be too late.

"But even if we perform the surgery, I can’t guarantee that it will end smoothly."

"That means, I might die on the operating table tomorrow... right."

Annan said softly.

The robust doctor replied solemnly: "That is correct. But I will try my best..."

"There’s no need for that, doctor."

Annan interrupted him, issuing a deep chuckle: "Of course, I trust you.

"But do you... really trust yourself?"

Upon hearing Annan’s abrupt question, the doctor paused for a moment.

Annan then continued, "Besides, that other matter for tomorrow... you remember it, don’t you."

"Ah, yes."

The doctor sighed: "Indeed, I had made such a promise... but I am destined to break my word."

Annan’s heart stirred.

He slightly turned his head, whispering, "So you’ve decided to go through with it."

"It’s already too late."

The doctor sighed: "He sees me as a hero, but I’m just a deserter. free𝑤ebnovel.com

"Tomorrow is the day we agreed upon, but I..."

"Are you planning to escape?"

Annan sharply questioned, "Even now, can you still not face the past?"

For most people, such words would be considered impolite and could provoke hostility.

But Annan’s current identity allowed him to speak in this manner—the reason was simple because he was currently playing the role of an old lady on the brink of death. Even if he said something slightly impolite, people would understand and tolerate it.

Therefore, the doctor standing behind Annan and pushing the wheelchair could only force a bitter smile.

He sighed, saying softly, "Because I am a coward... I am a despicable cowardice who fled from battle."

"How I ran away from the Battlefield... now I will run away just like that at my own doorstep."

"Like a dog."

"You still have no plans to look for your son?"

Annan further pressed.

But the doctor didn’t reply, only remaining silent.

He was almost certain that the doctor was the "heroic father" he saw on the first piece of paper.

Conversely deducing... the identity of the owner of the first piece of paper was also essentially confirmed.

Therefore, Annan induced, "Actually, I think he might have recognized you long ago. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be so unusually silent in front of you."

"He has always been silent," the doctor countered.

And this response was akin to an admission that the "Repairman" was his son—among the eight people in the village, only the Repairman was the most silent.

So Annan chuckled, making his final confirmation: "That’s right. Because the only thing he can’t fix is his heart."

"...It’s my fault."

As expected, the doctor fell silent for a while before sighing, "He still thinks I’m dead. He believes that the watch I sent back, damaged in an explosion, was a keepsake from me..."

"Alright," Annan interrupted him, "it’s time for us to eat."

"Don’t you have any other things to do?" the doctor inquired.

Annan silently snickered to himself.

"Of course," he replied.

The next moment, Annan appeared in his sister’s house together with the doctor.

However, it was at this time that Annan became keenly aware—the timeline had changed.

Those who were supposed to arrive with the "old lady," "doctor" and the "Repairman" were not there. And "Uncle" and "Blondie," who should have arrived even earlier, had not yet shown up.

Annan and the doctor had become the first wave of people to arrive!

"I want to take a look at that."

He called out loudly to the doctor, pointing to the paper on the wall.

This was also a form of probing.

As expected.

The doctor looked somewhat bewildered.

"Look at what? The radio?" he asked.

Clearly, he hadn’t noticed the papers placed on top of the radio.

As if they had never existed from the beginning.

"Yes, the radio," Annan said, dealing with the situation: "I’ll check if it still works."

The immobile Annan was then wheeled up to the radio by the doctor.

Annan’s hand fumbled over the radio, discreetly observing the paper on the wall.

Surprisingly... even the papers were different this time!

The one that should have had the philosopher’s blood handprint now had a black circle struck onto another paper instead.

Annan carefully looked at the only different paper:

"I don’t want to live like this anymore."

The handwriting was messy and dirty, the paper slightly crumpled: "I’ve had enough, truly had enough!

"I no longer want to work a single day! I don’t want to see that old lady’s face again! I was supposed to live an exciting and interesting life, but why—why does it have to be me, why not someone else?

"Every night it’s nag, nag, nag—I just don’t want to work but still want money, what’s wrong with that? This job is endless, it never stops... Every day looking at her is like she’s about to die, but I’ve waited for the better half of a month, and even longer before that, yet she just hangs on and won’t die!

"Tomorrow then... let it be tomorrow. Tomorrow I will have a proper talk with that old lady... find someone to replace me. I think Uncle would be good, just the right match. A short-lived devil paired with a decrepit old man, a perfect match indeed.

"—If it really comes down to it, just kill her. Suffocate her with a pillow right there on the wheelchair, let her suffocate to death. After all, she’s about to die anyway, no one will suspect it was me.

"Good, let’s do that."

The handwriting on the slip of paper gradually became neat from the chaos.

As if the thoughts of its owner were becoming clearer by the moment.