[Damn, I’m completely numb]
[These last several chapters hurt so much with their knives…]
[Wuuuuu my house’s front door has been flooded by my tears QAQ]
[I did a 360-degree aerial spin while wailing, woke up my dog, it flew out of its bed and clawed me so I beat it crying too wuuuu we’re crying together wuuuu]
[Is this really Time Paradox? Isn’t this And Then There Were None? Baldy, you honestly confess—are you working for a funeral parlor (drawing knife jpg.)]
[The Shi Deng that Shi-ge wanted to protect destroyed his own tendons and vanished in the time tunnel. The Xiao Deng that Shi Deng wanted to protect was swallowed by the rift to the past. The Shi Deng that Xiao Deng wanted to protect… and Uncle Fu, wuuuu I never dreamed that Two Worlds person would be Uncle Fu ahhhhh]
[#Image# The Two Worlds person gazing across spacetime toward Uncle Fu outside Yellow Springs.
#Image# The Two Worlds person handing the straw hat to Shi Deng.
Such an intense sense of fate—it was destined all along, wasn’t it?]
[And that part where the Great Prophecy predicted QAQ, Shi-ge walked into that flower shop.]
[I’m frantically leaving comments in Chapter 70’s comment section, begging Shi-ge to go back to that flower shop and look, begging him to go in and pay wuuuu now the entire comment section is filled with comments begging Shi-ge to go back and pay. I want to cry and laugh at the same time.]
[Xiao Deng, my poor Xiao Deng. He was so afraid of being abandoned by Shi Deng, so afraid of returning to the past. Yet in the end, he still went back to the past tat… Such a tiny child, and his last words before going back to the past were asking if Shi Deng would forget him. That line made me explode with tears (furiously swinging water faucet jpg.)
I originally thought at least one would remain. Even leaving half would work! Such a small child and you could bear to do this.
You damn Baldy, you’d better not sleep too soundly tonight (wiping tears jpg.) (sharpening knife jpg.)]
[Really didn’t leave a single one hahahaha I haven’t gone crazy hahahaha]
[I want to know—once Time Paradox is deployed, will everyone truly forget Shi Deng’s existence? Then everything my baby did won’t be known by anyone wuuuu I don’t accept this!]
[Time Paradox only changes the cause, not the effect. The traces of Shi Deng baby’s existence won’t be erased, only the person himself and memories of him.]
[Wuuuu no, I need extras! At least Yuan Ting and the others can’t forget. Shi Deng suffered so much—why doesn’t he get a good ending? Are you really just targeting my baby alone for knives?!]
[I want extras—!]
[…]
For these last several chapters, Baldy updated Shi Deng and Xiao Deng’s disappearance plus Uncle Fu’s chapters all together—incredibly consecutive. These several knives stabbed deep into manga readers’ hearts. Forum posts surged explosively, countless threads marked red like blood from knife wounds.
Wailing everywhere.
All resentment pointed toward Baldy. Gong Du, as the script’s original instigator, faced absolutely no consequences.
When Shi Deng and Xiao Deng vanished, his script had already been completed. But the ending had gone slightly awry—
According to his script, he’d entrusted Baldy to find a Two Worlds person to hand him the straw hat, then later pin that Two Worlds person’s identity onto Shi-ge.
But after watching this world’s subsequent developments, Uncle Fu had walked into Yellow Springs and become the Two Worlds person who gave him the hat.
Gong Du paid great attention to preserving original characters’ proper endings within worlds. Just like Kang Quan in the previous world—he’d let Kang Quan die at the appropriate time point.
Though this world’s timeline was thin and character threads scattered, Uncle Fu had no specific ending. But Gong Du had intended to let this elder peacefully enjoy his remaining time.
Baldy was on the verge of tears. “…Characters with undefined endings are quite flexible. When you died, this world had already been completed. I can’t fully control it yet temporarily. Uncle Fu becoming a Two Worlds person was also an accident.”
Even if Shi Deng hadn’t arranged the hat-giving scene, Uncle Fu would probably have walked in anyway.
This really wasn’t its fault!
At this moment, they were all floating in the void—one black sphere, one blue sphere, and one pen, drifting among myriad stars.
The air pressure around the black sphere was very low.
Baldy spoke awkwardly. “Well, no matter how you put it, thank you. The fortune you’re owed has already been deposited. Plus, I’ve wrapped up a big bonus for you—you absolutely won’t lose out!”
Gong Du turned back, gazing toward the manga small world that had already been separated out.
It was brilliant gold in color.
Warm yet not scorching.
Vaguely, a blood-colored river encircled the world’s edge.
The little light orb studied Gong Du and suddenly exclaimed, “You changed color!”
Gong Du: “?”
The little light orb tossed him a mirror to see for himself. “So ugly, so ugly!”
Gong Du: “…”
His gaze fell on the mirror.
The black sphere in the mirror had originally been entirely black. Later, after experiencing that world of Elansno, when he’d retrieved his white soul, his ears and tail had become semi-transparent pearlescent white.
But now, within his mostly black soul, were interspersed some inconspicuous rainbow colors.
The little light orb covered its eyes. “Five-colored splendid black has appeared QAQ”
So ugly.
…It was indeed a bit ugly.
Gong Du fell silent, then extracted this strand of rainbow soul, fashioned it into an earring, and wore it on his white ear. “Makeup exam supervisor, do you know the reason souls change color?”
Baldy squinted at it. “This… seems like emotion? Though it also doesn’t look quite the same.”
Emotion?
Gong Du frowned.
How could a deity like him possess such a thing?
Touching the earring to carefully sense it, an unfamiliar emotion surged forth—bitter, sad, sorrowful, frivolous, indulgent, joyful… a complex mixture of flavors.
Gong Du abruptly released it.
The slight deviation in the script’s ending had already displeased him. Now this difficult-to-control emotion belonging to humans appeared within his body.
Emotion.
In deities’ annotations, the explanation for emotion included familial love, friendship, love and devotion, sacrifice—even encompassing dreams and pursuits.
An extraordinarily broad scope.
He’d originally possessed some as well, though not this rainbow-colored kind.
He was born from disease, had witnessed humanity’s warmth and coldness countless times. The word “emotion”—to him, it was merely a burden that made him experience pain.
The first step in becoming a deity: he’d extracted emotion from his soul.
He understood humans, could simulate their emotions, write scripts, even immerse himself in them tirelessly. He watched the characters in his scripts experience joys and sorrows with casual indifference.
Gong Du never felt he lacked anything.
The little light orb exclaimed in surprise, “You actually don’t have emotion?”
Didn’t this guy know that among upper deities, those without emotion were basically equivalent to eunuchs?!
Even that upper-level killing deity next door who split his soul and ended up falling in love with himself—even he had emotion!
It looked again at Gong Du’s soul. Aside from the colorful earring, it was only black and white.
Deities differed from Makeup exam supervisors like itself. Natural spirits within the system were all single-colored.
The little light orb pulled out Gong Du’s exam results to review, suddenly understanding.
It seemed to know why Gong Du had failed the examination.
Emotion was also a key point for passing the upper deity exam. Gong Du had probably memorized all the divine annotations about emotion and answered with standard textbook responses. So even though his final score was very low, he’d never considered that he lacked emotion.
The little light orb’s gaze toward Gong Du had completely changed—
This! Was just a bear child who’d crippled himself!
Gong Du touched the earring again, eyes growing somewhat cold. While exerting force, he said casually, “This thing is useless. If I could destroy it once, I can destroy it a second time.”
The little light orb hurriedly stopped him. “Don’t, don’t, don’t! If you really want to extract it, wait until after the retake! This thing relates to whether you can pass the exam. Pull it out if you want, but absolutely don’t affect my performance!”
It still had performance reviews and was competing for year-end bonuses!
The little light orb hastily explained, “So before the retake, you absolutely cannot destroy it!”
Gong Du was surprised. “You’re serious?”
All his exam questions had been answered according to standard answers.
The little light orb nodded vigorously.
Gong Du considered for a moment, then temporarily relented. “Fine.”
He looked toward Baldy. “Give Uncle Fu a better ending.”
Baldy was nearly in tears. “Ancestor, that won’t work! The manga world finally stabilized. We absolutely cannot touch it now.”
Gong Du asked, “Once it’s stable, I can touch it?”
Baldy nodded. “Probably a few decades, then you can come back.”
The identity of Shi Deng had originally died at age five—essentially a completely blank slate. Everything had been painted by Gong Du. Saying he WAS Shi Deng himself wouldn’t be wrong.
Gong Du said, “Makeup exam supervisor, check the fortune collection progress.”
The little light orb integrated and converted the fortune collected in this world. Overall progress suddenly shot up to ninety-seven percent. It gasped. “So fast!”
This was only the second world.
At this rate, casually muddling through the next world would complete the collection.
Actually, it wasn’t hard to understand.
Here, he’d collected fortune value from the manga world’s protagonists, plus substantial emotional feedback from readers in the big world. Combined with Baldy’s generous gifts—all added together, this number wasn’t surprising.
What Gong Du couldn’t understand was how the emotion he’d personally extracted could grow back.
Had he been too good to the protagonist team?
Or had some people within the small world, including the protagonist team, been too good to him?
Gong Du stated firmly, “I’ll choose the next world myself.”
The little light orb protested, “That’s against the rules…”
Seeing Gong Du about to destroy the earring again, the little light orb hastily changed its tune. “But since we’re so familiar now, I’ll open the back door for you!”
Only then was Gong Du satisfied.
The two spheres wobbled away into the distance. Baldy called out urgently, “Um, will you come back?”
The black sphere replied slowly, “Perhaps.”
No definite answer.
Actually, Baldy was struggling with how to draw the manga world’s extra chapters.
Since Gong Du hadn’t given it a clear answer, its extras should reflect that as well. The erasure didn’t need to be so clean.
***
**《Time Paradox · Extra Chapters》**
***
Everyone seemed to awaken from a dream.
The Yellow Springs blood river vanished from the ocean’s surface.
The ability users who’d participated at Shenhu City remembered nothing of what had happened or why they’d gathered there. All traces were wiped completely clean by an invisible hand.
The next day, a strange rumor emerged from Feng City.
At the end of their city’s main road, beside the west gate, a stone statue had abruptly appeared. It seemed to have existed for a long time, yet no one remembered when this statue had been erected.
Based on its form, the statue depicted a youth—body wrapped in chains, bells dangling from his hair, covered in scars, facial features blurred. It looked like someone who’d just finished walking the road behind him, utterly exhausted.
Yet whenever Feng City residents saw the statue, inexplicable guilt welled up in their hearts. They spontaneously bowed in reverence, offering it the respect due to deities and buddhas.
This incident stirred commotion for several days before dying down. The statue’s appearance was recorded in Feng City’s municipal chronicles.
Yuan Guang, which had always opposed Tiangu, fell eerily quiet without any activity.
Until three years later.
The elite team was ordered to investigate Yuan Guang’s interior. When they approached Yuan Guang maintaining cautious vigilance, they discovered the place had long been abandoned.
The massive castle was exceptionally eerie. Ancient trees and vines crept through corners, proliferating wildly. Fluttering birds were startled away with a rush of wings.
Cen Le surveyed the area. “No one has lived here for a very long time. So this is why Yuan Guang went silent.”
“Unless their leader left, Yuan Guang wouldn’t have disbanded,” Zhi Ze said, controlling the trees here to clear a path. “So the question becomes: where did their leader go?”
Yuan Ting sheathed his blade with a sigh. “I thought we’d at least get to fight.”
“Let’s see if there are any living creatures here. Maybe we can find clues.”
The three of them walked deeper inside. Yuan Ting scratched his head in confusion, looking at the surrounding architecture. “Strange… I clearly remember never coming here before, so why does it feel so familiar?”
Cen Le agreed, “I have the same feeling.”
Pushing open the heavy doors, dust fluttered down from the cracks. The crimson carpet showed no signs of fading. Their footsteps stirred fine particles floating in the air.
It was nighttime. Zhi Ze turned on the lights.
A long dining table sat here, plates still not cleared away. A chair beside it remained pulled out, residual traces of life lingering.
They searched the rooms here.
Two bedrooms sat adjacent to each other. One was clearly for a child—filled with toys and plushies. The other contained a wheelchair.
When the three looked at that wheelchair, inexplicable tightness and discomfort filled their chests, though they couldn’t understand why.
After searching thoroughly, they found no clues.
At dawn, they went to search the final location—
Yuan Guang’s rear cliff.
The moment they entered, they heard a strange rustling sound. All three looked up, instantly stunned. Zhi Ze exclaimed in surprise, “This is… a sunflower field?”
Under cold moonlight, a fence enclosed an entire sunflower field. Though it was clearly early spring, the flowers bloomed vigorously.
Outside the flower field stood a wooden sign reading: [Monster’s Dwelling].
The moonlit flower field didn’t resemble a monster’s dwelling at all—instead, it seemed like a place where a carefree, transcendent person might live.
When things deviate from normalcy, demons arise. Zhi Ze sensed the interior of the flower field. Detecting no threats, he led the way inside.
The moment his foot touched the soil within the fence, a strange sensation surged through him. Zhi Ze paused, then suddenly reached out to pluck a petal from a nearby sunflower.
Yuan Ting warned, “Be careful.”
His words had barely fallen when all three watched with wide eyes as the sunflower whose petal had been plucked trembled slightly. That petal reappeared while the petal in Zhi Ze’s hand vanished.
Cen Le gasped, “What?”
Zhi Ze rubbed his fingertips together. After a long moment, he frowned thoughtfully. “If I’m not mistaken… time here is frozen.”
Yuan Ting checked his watch. “That’s not right—my watch is still running.”
Zhi Ze considered, “It’s that time for things *here* is frozen. Like it’s stuck at some point in the past and won’t move forward anymore.”
The three looked around more carefully. Only then did they notice the abnormality.
It was far too quiet here. Small insects crawled across the ground, disturbing a grain of soil. Within a second, that soil returned to its original state.
The path beneath their feet was also exceptionally clean—nothing like a place no one had visited for three years.
At the path’s end, in the flower field’s center, stood a small wooden cabin.
Yuan Ting’s three entered to investigate, finding only simple living supplies—everything remaining exactly as it had been when the owner just left.
To the small cabin’s right was a grave.
Cen Le walked to the graveside and found a locked wooden box. “There’s something here.”
They opened it and froze.
Inside were a photograph and an identification badge.
Zhi Ze pulled out the photograph. The moment he saw it clearly, the shock and astonishment in his heart defied description.
Whoever had taken this photo had captured it with extraordinary gentleness.
Under warm,融融 sunlight, gentle breezes brushed treetops. Beneath the tree, four youths each engaged in their own activities. Three of them were unmistakably their own appearances from several years ago.
As for the other one…
The other one reclined in a wheelchair, napping peacefully, features relaxed, lips curved in a smile.
In the tree branches, a young man cradled a kitten. He propped himself up, deep blue eyes reflecting the person in the wheelchair—gentle and serene.
A bittersweet, swelling emotion surged from their hearts. Yuan Ting’s tears flowed unstoppably. “…Damn it, why does looking at this photo hurt so much…”
When he looked up, he realized he wasn’t alone—Zhi Ze and Cen Le were in no better condition.
“Why does this photograph exist? Based on the background, it’s clearly at Yuan Guang. But in my memories, there’s definitely no such scene. This photo…”
Was it fake?
Before that thought could fully form, it was suppressed.
This photograph was real—even though they had absolutely no impression of the youth in the photo or the man holding the cat. If they didn’t know them, why would they cry upon seeing this photograph? What were they crying for?
Cen Le pulled out the identification badge from the wooden box, running her fingers over it with slight hesitation.
“This… seems to be a Tiangu elite team identification badge.”
Yet the name on the badge seemed erased by something, transformed into a blurred mass of white. The original name and markings were no longer visible.
She lifted her gaze toward the grave ahead.
The tombstone bore no engraved name either—completely clean and blank.
That ‘rustling’ sound seemed to emanate from beneath the earth, leisurely narrating a story the world couldn’t hear. The entire garden of sunflowers served as silent listeners.
Every place held traces of that person’s existence. Every place lacked his name.
His name would never be remembered.
Cen Le whispered, “Was he our friend?”
Was he also a member of the elite team?
Cen Le turned the identification badge over, blocking the moonlight. The blurred white patch darkened.
“Why doesn’t the name on this glow?”
***
June.
The previous elite team had all become heavyweight figures in Tiangu, and a new elite team selection had begun.
Because the Northern Universe Domain was gradually becoming peaceful, this recruitment raised the age requirement to 18. The other children should attend school as appropriate. Registration was entirely voluntary.
Chi Yu had a headache. He grabbed the orange juice beside him and took a sip. “Ah, all the good prospects went to university. There’s so much more competition than a few years ago.”
“What are those three—Zhi Ze and the others—really doing? They’ve been searching for a friend whose name they don’t even know for so long. They haven’t even returned to Tiangu. Taking salary for nothing? More leisurely than me.”
The recruitment office director smiled teasingly. “Come on now. These years have been so much more peaceful. Isn’t enjoying some blessings nice? You say that, but who knows how happy you actually are inside.”
He handed over the list of qualified candidates for this elite team selection. “Take a look.”
Chi Yu accepted it with a wave. “Alright, alright. You can go. There’ll be work to keep busy with.”
Four people—talent levels comparable to Yuan Ting’s group. Chi Yu raised an eyebrow, took a drag from his cigarette, and after roughly drafting a training plan, stood up.
Stretching lazily, he sighed. “This time it’s finally complete. Complete is definitely better.”
After speaking, he inexplicably froze.
Yet thinking carefully, nothing seemed wrong with what he’d said.
Chi Yu looked at the four names in his hand, frowning as he muttered, “…Still feels like something’s missing.”
He rotated the smoking pipe in his hand, noticing a small crack.
[*”Chi Yu.”*]
[*”You should replace this with a new one.”*]
A cool, deep voice inexplicably appeared in his mind.
Chi Yu spaced out momentarily, shaking his head. When he tried to recall it, he couldn’t grasp the fleeting residual image. He glanced at the smoking pipe in his hand, murmuring softly, “Should replace it with a new one?”
He snorted. “I won’t replace it.”
Grabbing his unfinished orange juice, Chi Yu ambled out of the office door to contact his new students.
***
July.
Sunflower blooming season.
That flower field named Monster’s Dwelling—the grave it surrounded was solitary yet magnificent.
The three friends who’d searched for answers without success arrived here side by side.
Against the sky’s melting golden sunset glow, the eternally frozen flower field bloomed brilliantly.
Within the sea of brilliant gold and gentleness, the vague silhouette of a youth appeared. He smiled faintly, then rushed into the flower field’s depths, vanishing into time’s torrents.
***
**
Sam Williams On TYMIMA Chapter 152