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Volume 10 Bug Chapter 156 Look, this world!

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    Chapter 156 Look, this world!

    When my spacewalker friends left, the world also fell into silence.  Although it was still early in the day, the number of people everywhere was already very thin.  There are fewer and fewer spacewalkers moving around freely, and the few we occasionally meet on the road are listless and weak. The rest are the natives who never seem to be tired or bored, fighting for this sleeping world.  Retaining a faint trace of vitality.

    Whenever this happens, I can't help but fall into a panic that I don't know what to do.  I once spent a whole day frantically completing various tasks, filling the alone time with running around and fighting; I also used esoteric alchemy to dispel this loneliness, in a simple laboratory  Spend this time; but more often than not, I prefer to find a quiet place - or a lush lawn, or a huge rock, or a soft haystack - and feel the breeze blowing from me  I walked across my body and stared at the sun, moon and stars rising and setting again and again, letting my awake soul sleep with the world until my friends reawakened me.

    I never knew what my friends meant by fatigue and sleepiness. I could run all night or fight all day long. I once thought that I didn¡¯t need to rest¡ªI even didn¡¯t understand the meaning of the word ¡°rest¡± at all¡ª  ¡ªHowever, I soon realized that maybe my body didn¡¯t need rest, but my soul did.

    "When I owned the cabin upstairs in the guild, I once regarded it as a home for my soul to rest. In fact, it did help me spend many lonely days and nights.  But now, I can't find peace of mind here. An irresistible commotion is growing deep in my heart, making me dazed and upset.  I always feel that there is something important that needs to be done, but I can never remember what it is

    ¡­Or maybe I don¡¯t want to think about it?  Don't dare to think of it?

    Opening the window, it was just after dusk, and the holy city of Freischt was bathed in warm twilight, as if covered with a golden veil.  Looking far into the distance, the woods outside the city are vaguely visible, stretching into the distance until the edge of the horizon.

    I suddenly became dissatisfied and stepped on my toes, wanting to look further away, wanting to see the other side of the horizon. There seemed to be something there that I was longing for silently, even if I didn't know what it was, but  I still can't help but miss it.

    What is there further away?  There are several mountains, a river, a vast plain, and several small and cozy villages.

    No, it¡¯s more than that.  I suddenly remembered that in that distant place that I couldn¡¯t see, there was a small city called Campnavia, with its mossy walls and blue-gray roofs. It was not that big but it was  The central square that is always lively, the sculptural fountain that never sprays water but the water is always clear

    On one side of the city, there is also a bright path, and the flower beds beside the road are filled with roses of various colors.  The sunset at this moment should also be rippling on that path. I imagined that it was like a stream filled with light, flowing quietly along the bluestone slabs.  Standing in the middle of the road, it feels like you can reach out and grab a handful of bright sunshine. If you can drink it, you will feel warm all over your body.

    Oh, no, none of this is important. What is important is that on the edge of this road, there is a small but exquisite bakery. The bakery's oven is always burning hot, with a red fire.  It's always beating happily, making people's faces turn red.  There are all kinds of breads on the shelves in the bakery: blueberry jam, chocolate, baguettes, large hand-shredded buns Even the bread on the shelves always feels warm to the touch, because there is a  A kind and diligent girl will always replace the cold bread with hot bread freshly baked from the oven.

    Among the many kinds of bread, I like the vanilla flavor the best. The soft and sweet flavor always reminds people of the girl¡¯s soft and white hands.  Oh, by the way, I have such a vanilla bread in my backpack.  I found it and held it in my hand. The bread was already cold, but the faint, soft taste was still there.  Putting it under the tip of my nose and sniffing it, the face of that lively girl with freckles and always smiling came to mind.

    Suddenly, a strong longing hit me, and I suddenly remembered the reason for the confusion that has always troubled me.  Marianne, that girl as delicate and beautiful as a rose, I haven't seen her for a long time since her last hasty escape.  I was once afraid of facing the strong emotions that were destined to be fruitless, so I forced myself to forget it all.

    But what about now?  Now that I have decided to face my life calmly and treasure all this as the best memory in my life, can't I muster up the courage to see her again?

      I couldn't sit still anymore, so I immediately opened the door and ran out, hurrying to find the nearest stagecoach station.  I arrived just in time, as the carriage bound for Campnavia was stopping there.  As soon as I plunged into the carriage, the carriage rocked and started off.

    I have long guessed that these stagecoaches traveling between distant cities possess some kind of mysterious magical power. They can reach their destinations at a speed that far exceeds common sense. Even the fastest mounts I know cannot compare with it.  .  But now, no matter how fast the dwarf coachman sitting in front is, it seems so slow to me.  My body is sitting in the carriage, but my heart is already flying ahead.

    You know, "missing" is the most amazing magic.  No matter it's the end of the world, no matter it's a vast sea of ??people, or even parting between life and death, it can pull your heart to the person you miss in an instant, allowing you to clearly picture that person's voice and appearance in your mind.  Compared with it, the speed of light and electricity may not be that fast; compared with it, your vision and hearing are so blurry.

    A few minutes later¡ªwhich seemed to me like centuries¡ªI rode to the intersection of Rose Street.  Everything is as peaceful and peaceful as I imagined: the setting sun fills the stone road, the fragrance of flowers is diffused in the wind, cute huts stand on both sides, and the clear sound of wind chimes is heard in the air from time to time.  The entire road is empty, and there is not a single pedestrian in sight; yet it is so fulfilling, filled to the brim with something called "gentleness."

    Along the way, I have fantasized about this reunion with Marianne countless times.  I once imagined that I would burst into tears and cry bitterly to say goodbye to the most beautiful relationship in my life; I also imagined that I would force a smile on my face, and still smile despite the pain deep in my heart like a knife pricking my heart.  Talk to her; I imagined that I would be like a fool, my mind would go blank when I saw her, and I would stand there staring blankly I even imagined that I would be a coward, a coward, and an evader who would collapse in front of his own feelings.  , I didn¡¯t even have the courage to set foot on this street, I didn¡¯t even dare to take a look at the shadow of the bakery, let alone see with my own eyes the beautiful girl who made me dream about it day and night.

    But I have never thought about this situation:

    I rode my beloved horse and walked slowly on the right side of the path. I watched the cute sign of "Santa Bakery" getting bigger and clearer, and then there were the beautiful doors and bright windows.  .  The night was gradually getting dark, but not enough to light a candle.  The fire flickered in the room, creating a bright light and shadow.

    Just outside the window, I saw Marianne Santa, the girl I was destined to fall in love with, but who was destined not to fall in love with me.

    She was lying on the counter at that time, just as I remembered, holding her cheeks with both hands, looking out the window in ecstasy at the sky, not seeing me standing outside the window, with a layer of happiness on her face  A longing smile.

    There is no sadness, no excitement, no tears, no cowardice. It is neither as tangled as a novel nor as detailed as a poem. It is like a simple prose. She is inside the window, I am outside the window, everything is like this.  It happened naturally, as if everything was meant to be.

    I suddenly remembered an ancient but unanswered and unanswerable question: What exactly is "love"?

    It is a strong emotion that can only be described with extremely strong words such as pain and sweetness, life and death, loyalty and betrayal. It uses the irresistible surging emotions to impact the deepest part of your nerves again and again, making you feel uncomfortable.  You leave behind the most thrilling spiritual feelings. Only heart-breaking, only ice and fire, only a broad understanding of life and death, only eternal life, is that called "love"?

    Or maybe it is a private, obscure emotion that can never be expressed in words, but is always hidden in the heart. It is delicate and fragile and cannot withstand the slightest touch. Time will wear it out and words will hurt it.  , Lust will scorch it, and only the most beautiful and pure thoughts can blend with it. Is this kind of pure spiritual care and nurturing called "love"?

    No, no, no, that¡¯s not love, at least not all of love.  It should be as much a part of our lives as breathing, hearing, sitting, lying, walking, and thinking.  It should probably be a calm and ordinary thing. When you have it, it is so natural, but when you taste it carefully, it will feel so incredible and incomprehensible.  You don¡¯t know why you can drive the index finger of your right hand to accurately press a small button in an area of ??less than three square millimeters, but you have no difficulty in doing so; similarly, you don¡¯t know why every time you see that familiar  When a figure passes by you, your heart will beat faster and your breathing will become rapid,??You just love it and keep loving it.

    It¡¯s not that mysterious, it¡¯s not that strong, it¡¯s not that fragile, I have truly loved, that is the mark of my life.  I used to be panicked, collapsed and escaped, but now I know that what I am afraid of is not love itself, but only the failure of love.

    Will you be burned by the warmth you radiate?  Can you get pricked by the skin on your own palms?  If not, then there is no doubt that you will not be hurt by the love in your heart.  That is the warmest and softest emotion in your heart. What could be hurt by it?

    Marianne Santa stood up briskly, bent down to take out the newly baked bread from the oven, and then replaced the bread on the shelves and in the window one by one.  The fire was glowing red, reflecting her graceful figure on the window, as if she could touch it, so real and clear.

    I couldn¡¯t help but slowly stretched out my hand, wanting to touch that beautiful light and shadow.  No, it's not just touch, I want to integrate myself into it - I don't mean my body, but my emotions - all mapped onto this graceful figure, letting her carry all my tenderness and everything  miss.

    At this moment, something suddenly touched my heart, and in the blink of an eye, everything around me became pale.  The world is shrouded in black, filled with endless green "0"s and "1s" that change at all times.  I stretched out my hands in amazement, wanting to see what I had become, but unexpectedly the countless "0"s and "1s" were changed hundreds of times, and then a huge green wave rolled up into the distance.  Flowing quickly.

    I succeeded?  !  I was both surprised and excited - even my surprise and excitement were channeled by these endless green characters - I successfully saw through the origin of this world and restored all this gorgeousness to only a black background and green  In the endless wilderness of characters.

    I suddenly looked curiously in the direction of the bakery girl Marianne - even just the action of "looking" would make the characters around me churn - she also became a part of this symbolic world, even so  , the characters that represent her also look brighter and more beautiful.  Those characters danced with joy like waves. Although I had no idea how I did it, I still knew clearly that it was her putting the bread into the window.

    It¡¯s so interesting, even the aroma of those breads has been reduced to the shape of numbers, constantly exuding to the surrounding world - this is the first time in my life that I have ¡°seen¡± what the smell looks like.

    Although it was my first time to come to this strange digital world, I was not too panicked.  Although the old troll witch doctor Carlson didn't teach me how to do this step at the time, he filled my head with many related things.  He told me that if you want to return to that concrete world in this situation, you can start with a simple thing, stare at it, and outline what it looks like in your mind - the more detailed you can imagine it, the better.  ¡ª¡ªUntil it transforms from numbers into a certain form.  And even if something as big as a needle or a pebble has an image, then the whole world will immediately have an image.

    Of course, when you are familiar with all this, it doesn¡¯t have to be so troublesome.  Traveling between these two worlds is just a matter of thought.

    Rather than choosing something that seemed simpler, I set my sights on Marianne Santa.  I knew this was not a good choice. A face with two eyes, two ears, a nose, a mouth, and tons of brown hair would be as easy to imagine as a brick or an iron rod.  But, at this moment, it was really hard for me to picture anything else in her presence.

    The whole process was not as difficult as I feared. Perhaps Marianne's face was too clear in my mind, and even every detail could not be forgotten. In just a moment, the bakery girl's handsome little face  It reappeared in front of me, and the world immediately became vivid again. The sunset filled the sky and cast a shy red color on the city.

    I just thought how interesting it all was, so I immediately concentrated my mind and recalled the various methods that Karls taught me. I wanted to see through the wall of this illusory world and try to return to the original world structured by two basic numbers.

    But I failed.  No matter what I try, it's useless. No matter whether I imagine my consciousness as a sharp blade, a spear or a heavy sledgehammer, I can't make the slightest crack in the world.

    There must be something wrong. I thought, since I succeeded just now but not now, the problem must be different in these two attempts.  I immediately stopped this futile attempt and recalled the awareness in my mind just now.

    At that time, I did not want to break anything - I thought - I did not intend to expose the falsehood of the world, but instead realized the truth in my heart.  my intention??It's not a sword or a hammer. In fact, I don't want to condense my consciousness into a powerful, sharp and strong image. Instead, I make it gentler and gentler, trying to integrate it into Marianne.  figure

    I see!

    The key is here: integrate, not break.

    All this time, I have completely accepted the understanding of old Carlson: He said that this gorgeous surface world is a kind of falsehood, and only the digital source world is the only reality. Therefore, I always imagine that there is a world in front of me.  There is a huge wall that hides the truth. Only by breaking it down can we see the reality behind it.

    However, I have always overlooked one point: Is Carlson¡¯s understanding necessarily correct?

    You know, this lonely old troll man has never stepped out of the Gravel Fortress. The magic vortex caused by the copy magic at the fortress gate blocked his steps, blocked his gaze, and also locked his eyes.  Thought.  Indeed, after he woke up, he gained miraculous powers that I had always struggled to master. But as he said when he taught me, he could not explain to me the natural and instinctive power of speaking with his mouth and listening to sounds with his ears.  , he himself knows it but doesn't know why - he just can use it.

    All his explanations and teachings to me came from his own one-sided understanding of all this. For him, it doesn't matter whether this understanding is correct or wrong, he can still use this power freely; and for me, it doesn't matter whether this understanding is correct or wrong.  Say, this fundamental deviation in understanding means a completely ineffective approach.

    There is no "table world", and similarly, there is no "source world", there is only one world, and the existence of this world itself is reality.  What he calls "table world" and "source world" are actually just two different ways of expressing the same real world.  This is like the "energy" mentioned in alchemy. It can be solidified calmly in an object, can be output and consumed smoothly, and can also explode in an instant with extremely destructive impact. You can only say  It is released in different ways, but it cannot be said which kind of energy is "real" and which kind of energy is "fake".

    If there must be a distinction between the two worlds, I think that perhaps the "source world" is a direct manifestation of the basic laws when the gods created the world, and the "expression world" is a specific representation of these laws.  Although both of them are real, the "source world" is more basic.  Therefore, only by "integrating" one's consciousness into the "surface world" can one touch the original power of this world.  As for imagining consciousness as swords, guns, halberds, axes, axes, hooks, and so on, that actually fundamentally excludes people from entering this world, and of course there is no way to get in.

    Realizing this, I slowly closed my eyes and let my consciousness spread into the endless void. I didn't touch anything, but tried to fully blend and stir it like brewing coffee, aimlessly.  Spread outward.

    Opening my eyes again, the night is endless and the green waves are like the sea. Look, this endless world of symbols is so clear and clear!
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