Chapter 1002: Ending
Falosa showed Xu Yang a thin sword, which seemed to have no thickness.
"This is a weapon that I have developed through countless penances after entering the high-dimensional space." Falosa said.
"After you sacrificed the god-killing weapon, you really need a new weapon." Xu Yang said.
"No no, this is not just a weapon. This is a real dimensional weapon. It is developed with reference to the energy potential difference between high-dimensional space and low-dimensional space. This time it can take us to a known world. In that world, all observed Everything has its conclusion, and only by cutting off our connection with that world can we truly develop freely and not be bound by words." Faroza is full of confidence.
"It seems very remarkable." Xu Yang scanned it carefully.
"Look at me, I'll go back as soon as I go." Farosha held the sword in both hands.
"Where are you going?" Xu Yang was puzzled.
"Kill the man who stops us from finding the meaning of the unknown."
Faroza swung her rapier in the air, cutting a door that tore open the curtain.
After passing through the door, she quickly killed the typist within 0.1 second.
A sword passes through its head from behind, and blood splatters across the screen.
Faroza kicked the dead body off the seat and carefully observed the words recorded on the screen.
She typed on the keyboard and found that words appeared on the screen. It seemed that these words were supposed to be sent, and they were related to the typist.
The typist seems to have finished the story and is ready to speak to the reader.
Ho ho, do you have a typist? Faroza sneered. Is this writing a story about me? Stories about our cyber age witches? Why should you write it? Do you understand witches in the cyber age? Just write.
How is this typist's life and conduct?
What goals does he propose for his work? Under what circumstances, when and where did he write for whom?
Does what he writes really reflect vivid emotions and complex human nature?
Is he writing for the necessary labor in exchange for money, for the reader's reading experience, or to express his own heart?
Unsure whether the typist was good or not, Faroza decided to kill the typist and write the epilogue herself.
She deleted everything the typist had prepared and entered it herself:
Anyone read my story? Does anyone like it?
How did you take this story?
Who saw this story in the end, and what kind of person did it fall into?
How many different tests will the text of this story pass, will it be forgotten, deleted?
How many people will decide to accept the style of writing this story, accept the reading experience it provides, and understand its content?
besides.
Will someone like me? Like the great Lord Faroza? With such a uniquely strong personality, this is superior to all others.
Forget it, it's all irrelevant. After all, I am the strongest. It doesn't matter what you think.
all in all.
The real story is the one that stays in your head.
The real story is the one that emanates from your heart, the never-ending one, with countless possible stories.
Your memories, your awareness and your acceptance, keep bringing this story to life. Far surpassed the typist who was bleeding all over the floor.
In your hearts, this story will have many different endings.
If decades later, I can still smile knowingly when I think about it occasionally. That, too, is a great honor for this story.
Well, anyway, I have to go back.
The rest will be left to you.
After typing the epilogue, Faroza turned her head and saw the typist's body.
She felt that the life of a typist was still useful, so she revived it with the law of reply, so that she could continue to write for readers, then went back by herself, and continued to live with Xu Yang. The good days are yet to come.