If it was known before, it would be a huge pit he absolutely didn't want to jump into.

"Mm..." Her voice faded away.

At three in the afternoon, they reached a cave, hidden with grass covering the entrance.

Exhausted, Xi Li curled up into a large white ball in the corner of the cave. As Su Ming'an approached, her white fur rolled, enveloping him inside the white fluff.

"You sleep, I won't." Su Ming'an leaned against her fur.

"Preserve your physical strength and wait for Xiao Bai to leave." Xi Li said.

"... She won't leave." Su Ming'an said.

Even if the forest was burned to the ground, Xiao Bai would find him.

"Then I won't sleep either. If she comes looking, I'll take you and run." Xi Li sat up, maintaining her animal form, her tail swaying.

"So everyone in Luowasha can return to their true form, does that mean I can turn into a jellyfish?" Su Ming'an had a sudden thought: "Lv Shu would turn into a bat, Yamada becomes mechanics, Mizushima Kawa Sora turns into Taotie..."

"Yes, returning to one's true form is the strongest. But... the jellyfish might be an exception, losing even limbs, possibly weaker." Xi Li said.

Su Ming'an thought for a moment. Indeed. Turning into a jellyfish might be worse, leaving only a puddle of softness.

They quietly rested in the cave, and as they waited, low singing began.

Clear, long, slow, like a bedtime narrative poem.

"What are you singing?" Su Ming'an casually asked.

"A song I wrote before."

"Did the previous generation of the Rin Clan have time to write songs?"

"I don't know... Before becoming part of the Rin Clan, I seemed to be someone else, I can't remember. But I indeed wrote such a song. I still remember..."

She bent down and spat out a red crystal ball, within which was wrapped a clean sheet of paper:

"Once there was a person who gave me this thing. He said he would come back to take it next time. I don't remember who he was, but you give me a familiar feeling, can you look at this, could you be him?"

Her claw pierced the crystal ball, and Su Ming'an saw the content of the page.

What was just a casual question turned into an unexpected surprise when he looked at the page.

This is... Twelve Stories.

...

[Twelve Stories · Part Two · "A Strawberry Crisp at the Modern Science Mansion"]

[—Science no longer exists.]

[Upon realizing this, everyone at the Pang Jialai Research Institute was in an uproar. They repeatedly calculated those once fixed values, those concise and intricate formulas—yet found that not once did they yield the same result.]

[This signifies the collapse of the mansion of modern physics, the papers and research results we once prided ourselves on have becomes like snowflakes, worthless. And no matter how many generations progressed, wise beings could only repeatedly arrive at meaningless outcomes, never reaching the shores of noble truths.]

[This news quickly swept across the continent, and before realizing the disaster it brought to civilization, people first felt a sudden inspiration.]

[With a snap. Like a flame igniting another flame, like a sun shining upon another sun.]

[Simple, miraculous, romantic, clear.]

[This is what inspiration is.]

[People began to discover that certain flashing inspirations in their minds could suddenly manifest into reality at some moments. For instance, the strawberry crisp imagined yesterday afternoon suddenly appeared on the plate today, with taste and appearance both consistent with the imagination.]

["Absurd! How utterly absurd! The mansion of modern physics that humanity painstakingly built over millions of years is outdone by a suddenly appearing strawberry crisp! Ha ha, ha ha ha... I must be dead, or I wouldn't be seeing such a laughable paradise!" Dean Kael, the lead manned spaceflight engineer, crazily drank sobering soup, this respectable gentleman dirtied his bow tie with alcohol, hoping to wake from this absurd dream, but those who never drank knew—this isn't a dream.]

[People began and had to recognize that science no longer existed.]

[The rigorous, realistic, precise, and objective modern science suddenly ceased to exist.]

[Those with high inspiration began utilizing this inspiration, finding that for such fleeting inspiration, noting it down with words or ink... was the most suitable method.]

[They started to break free from the confines of the physics mansion, wielding their ink pens, capturing flickers of inspiration flashing through their minds... the "strawberry crisps" appearing more and more.]

[They might have many strawberries, maybe the crust is more crispy, or perhaps the filling tastes of sweet fruit... each "strawberry crisp" wasn't exactly the same, just like the dead science.]

[Consequently, there came hovering apples defying Newton's Law of Gravity, hyper-acceleration lead balls inconsistent with Galileo's Law, mechanical perpetual motion machines mocking Aristotle's wisdom... They appeared so abruptly, yet seemed so reasonable. Just move the pen's tip, and such a thing defying millennia of theorems was born.]

[That day, tens of thousands lost faith, falling from the high-rises, including that poor gentleman Dean Kael. I think, he might have gone to find a world without drunkenness.]

[People, like ravens walking on the frozen Arctic Ocean, had always relied on the markers provided by scientific data, adhering to the wisdom of predecessors over millennia, innovating their own direction with data and papers over and over. Until the ice surface suddenly melted... they fell into the sea. And long walking had deprived them of the strength to flap their wings.]

[Some people floated upward with inspiration, gradually growing flesh and feathers, returning to the sky. Some clung to old scientific theorems and sank to their deaths, losing the dream of crossing the Arctic Ocean.]

[—Who killed the ravens suspended in the tower?]

[Was it the vanished science, the inspiration, or that strawberry crisp?]

[When I wrote down the first strawberry crisp, I could feel its color, texture, and crispy outer skin, it looked so alluring. Unbound by the "Law of Material Eternity" required by modern science, or rather, the "Law of Conservation of Energy"—it simply appeared out of thin air. Needing neither cream nor flour, not even strawberries.]

[People called us people like us—"Creators".]

[Meaning, using just the tip of a pen, to create all small things, even life itself.]

[Or, another more suitable term full of malice from the Conservatives—"Those who overthrow the mansion of modern science and limit the future of civilization."]

[Indeed.]

[Just as those hoarsely shouting people said—]

["—If all things could be created with a 'feather pen', if all scientific laws could be altered with 'ink', where lies humanity's future?"]

["—If one's inspiration can be manifested into reality, integrating into the laws of the entire world, willfully altering the iron laws of thousands of years, what chaotic and false colors will the 'palette' called world display?"]

["—If everyone relies on the tip of a creator's pen, trusting in artificially altered 'natural laws', where are the objective and precise scientific theories?"]

["—If the upper limit of civilization exists only within people's abstract and scattered inspiration, regarding fleeting flashes of others as the foundation of collective progress, how can civilization ever find a spiraling ascension of collective development?"]

["Finally—when the 'strawberry crisp' on the table disappears, how will the 'raven' cross the already melted 'Arctic Ocean'?"]

[Newton's Three Laws, Hubble's Cosmic Expansion Law, Kepler's Laws of Planetary Motion, Heisenberg's Uncertainty Principle, General Theory of Relativity... these clear and beautiful theorems, with the death of science, gradually vanished from people's conversations.]

[In their place came "Creators," "Feather Pen," "Rank Ink," "World Book," "Twelve Stories"… these abstract and subjective concepts.]

[It was like a damned cold wave arrived, when spring brought flowers, the world people saw was entirely different, billions of lives fell in panicked disarray.]

[I bit into the strawberry crisp.]

[Its texture, crisp, sweet, alluring. Biting into it was as if Eve of Eden bit into the serpent's apple, pushing people exposed to a new tide, thin yet beautiful fruit skin woven into their new clothes, concealing their helpless ugliness.]

["Look! Gentlemen, ladies! Emotional words have replaced rational science!"]

["Look! The madman's inspiration has replaced beautiful and objective laws!"]

["Look! The unrestrainedly flowing ink has replaced polished and complete order!"]

[Thus, we must accept that the familiar home we knew transformed into one of words, inspiration, abstract, subjective, hopelessly filled with miracle… a "science vanished" world.]

[—Here, the new tower belonging to the ravens, has been born.]

[That is a tower named "Strawberry Crisp."]

[One by one, strawberry crisps piled upon the collapsing mansion of modern science, arrogantly mocking the castles of truth that humanity built tirelessly day and night.]

[Their crispy crusts exude a golden glow.]

...

Su Ming'an, in a daze, finished reading this story.

Compared to the previous jellyfish story by Sique, this one was entirely different. Filled with anger, confusion, incomprehension, and anticipation, it conveyed the bewilderment of being impacted by the tides of time, the melancholy for a suddenly changed world, yet all viewed with a rational perspective on this abrupt transformation.

Previously, Su Ming'an thought "Genesis Power" was simply Luowasha's setting, that the Eleventh World was merely an instance requiring everyone to write stories. But he never pondered the source of this "setting" or how it altered the world.

He only knew of the "setting," but not its essence.

He only saw the novelty and wonder, yet never considered its beginnings or ends.

From the very onset, everything has its logic. Even mindless villains have their starting points. The majority of the World Game's logic fits perfectly.

Sique, from the perspective of an observer, narrated the beginning of this rapid change—realizing that Luowasha wasn't always the way it is now.

At the end of the story, there was a small poem.

Sique's handwriting was bold, the ink faint, and the words lifted like dancing leaves.

...

[—At the end of the sorrowful tide that swept humanity, I walked on the beach.]

[Castles of scientific truths, built over millions of years, stood tall, only to be swept away by a giant wave.]

[Scientists lay on the "beach," desperately protecting these castles, yet only water flowed beneath them.]

[Politicians commanded to hold back the tides, but the waves already lapped over their noses.]

[Only madmen and writers cheered on the beach, dancing around the ink of their pens, looking forward to a future full of inspiration.]

["Science is dead! Science is dead!"]

[Such slogans spread.]

["Stubborn philosophers, embrace your true philosophy, for the world is now entirely different! Just a stroke of the pen for a perpetual motion machine! No need to plant wheat to eat black bread! With inspiration, everything can be created! The heavy steam engines and looms are bound to be eliminated!"]

[Such cheers flowed.]

[While walking, I heard sounds.]

[Buzz, buzz, buzz.]

[Clank, clank, clank.]

[Swish, swish, swish.]

[Tap, tap, tap.]

[Were those the cries of ancestors, or the laments of philosophers? No, they weren't.]

[They were...]

[—The last hum of Jenni's loom.]

[—The last buzz of Watt's steam engine.]

[—The last flicker of electricity inside Siemens' machinery.]

[—The final strike of atomic energy and electronic computers.]

[Was this their lament, or their last farewell sound to human civilization over thousands of years?]

[When all creatures fell with science, they died together.]

[When the last sandcastle was swept away, I saw flying ink in the sky—"Creators" had begun using pen and ink to change this world, using their inspiration to build their paradise.]

[Therefore, from today, we should chant—]

[The sun is blue, and red is the moon.]

[Soil is condensed water, and the ocean is mud.]

[Leaves are made of butterflies, and butterflies are leaves.]

[A fulcrum cannot lift a planet, geocentrism surpasses heliocentrism.]

[1 kilogram of cotton is heavier than 1 kilogram of a perpetual motion machine, and on the Leaning Tower of Pisa, 1 pound and 10 pounds of iron balls never fall.]

[Apples will fly into the sky, and beneath the tree lies only a grave.]

...

[—Que.]

...

The bonfire crackled.

Xi Li lit the bonfire to warm herself, the flames dancing within the cave.

Su Ming'an snapped out of shock, the words of Sique still echoing in his mind.

"The sun is blue, and red is the moon..." Su Ming'an gazed outside the cave—he had never paid attention to the color of the sun, but now, looking up, he noticed a hint of blue on the celestial sun.

…Has someone been adding color to it over the millennia?

And in the distant sky where day and night join, the blue moon glowed with a faint red.

If this was Luowasha's distant upheaval, then the Dragon Emperor, Elf King, Blood Clan... could these fantastical races also be bit by bit... over the millennia?

As Su Ming'an thought deeply, he became increasingly terrified. He didn't know what Sique had written, but many things around him certainly bore the traces of Sique's writings.

Using the Immortal's Talisman, he conjured an apple, bright red and juicy, tossing it upward.

"Swish!"

—The apple floated in midair.

Glowing red, juicy and enticing.

Newton's Law of Gravity still existed, but over the millennia, at least one Creator must have written something like "apples do not obey the Law of Gravity."

Su Ming'an caught the apple, which felt light, barely exerting downward force.

The gentle breeze brushed against his face, as if he could hear countless philosophers sighing around him.

...

...

The Second Epoch, Year 486.

When all beings were bewilderedly falling in "Science is dead,"

—"Apples" would fly into the sky.

Philosophers had departed.

And beneath the tree lies only a grave.

...

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