Chapter 126

"Should I do it?" Li Daoran asked, a trace of confusion in his voice.

"Yes, you must. Who else, if not you, could bring about this historic moment? You chose this moment yourself. Success or failure, we will always remember you," David said.

"Why do you make it sound like I'm about to die? Such bad luck," Li Daoran chuckled, tilting his head back to gaze at the sky.

"If you wish to give up, you may do so at any time," Natasha's voice came through.

"There's no need for that now. We've come this far. If I gave up now, too many people would be left with regrets," Li Daoran stood up, raised his arm, and looked at the two wounds that were already beginning to blur.

"Then let's begin. Counting down: five, four, three, two, one." Li Daoran counted slowly. Whether humanity could sever its connection with Li Daoran would soon be revealed.

Three seconds later, Li Daoran saw no new wounds appear on his arm. He spoke up, "What are the results? I don't see any wounds here, which means no synchronization took place. How about on your end?"

"The wounds synchronized. It was pretty much expected, I suppose," Hou Liang replied.

"Hah," Li Daoran let out a breath, expelling the heavy air that had been trapped in his throat. During those intensely tense three seconds, he had even forgotten how to breathe. "That's not good news for us."

"Not necessarily. After all, this was the highest-probability outcome; it merely confirms what we anticipated. This just means you cannot afford to die, Daoran. Truthfully, even without synchronization, we wouldn't have given up on you. After all, nobody knows whether your consciousness could return after your physical death. The end result is essentially the same," Hou Liang said. "We just gave you a bit of hope because you seemed so eager for release. If it could lighten your psychological burden, it was something we were glad to do."

"Well, you don't need to dwell on it too much. After all, this was just a final contingency plan. Since it proved ineffective, it simply rules out an incorrect answer for us," Natasha consoled Li Daoran as well.

They could tell that Li Daoran's state of mind was somewhat skewed at the moment; he seemed utterly dejected.

"Actually, I was thinking—if synchronization failed, I might as well just become a savage out here," Li Daoran finally gave voice to the thoughts he had been suppressing. "Look at this place, life isn't bad at all: honey, giant bears, towering trees, everything is quite nice. I wouldn't need to exercise, I could sleep whenever I pleased, I wouldn't have to worry about being ambushed in my sleep, and I could rest in real comfort. That doesn't sound half bad."

He knew that speaking this way was somewhat irresponsible, but why should he be the one to bear all of this?

It was much like going to school, where every day teachers, parents, and everyone around you forced you to study. Sometimes you just wanted to slack off, wondering why you had to study so hard in the first place. Only when you bore real responsibility and pressure did you truly understand the crushing weight and hidden tears behind everyone's seemingly glamorous facade.

Of course, there were the naturally gifted, those who gained without working, and those blessed by the accumulated virtues of their ancestors. But Li Daoran knew he was not one of them. He was just an ordinary person. If it were possible, he would rather squander time and simply enjoy life, free from the crushing burdens of mortal existence.

That was why he wouldn't throw tantrums, abuse power, or harbor deep malice; he simply carried everything silently within his heart. Put bluntly, Li Daoran had a self-sacrificing personality. It was just that occasionally, he too wanted to shed the burden on his soul—just like he said, even if it meant becoming a wild savage.

"I suppose only someone like you could be chosen by fate. Only you could make people as different as us submit wholeheartedly, and even feel a pang of heartache for you," Natasha said softly.

"Indeed, Daoran. You've already done wonderfully. Even if there are imperfections, this is precisely what makes us human," Hou Liang said.

"Stop adding so much pressure to yourself. Sometimes I wonder when you're going to snap, or even wish you would just act arrogant and tyrannical for once. Imagine you turning to me one day and saying, 'David, I am very displeased with you today, go die.' And then I would have to beg you pitifully—now that would look like a true overlord! You hold supreme authority in your hands yet keep it locked away in your heart. Don't you find that stifling?" David asked. "Be a bit more audacious, Daoran. You are the one and only savior."

"At your command, Your Highness," Charles said, concise and to the point.

"Seconded," rumbled Tam's honest voice, though heaven knows where he had picked up such a phrase.

"How did this turn into a commendation rally again? I finally understand how ancient emperors felt being treated as superior to everyone else—surrounded by people like you, it's impossible not to become arrogant. All right, I'm fine. I was just expressing a sentiment, look at how badly you've all been scared," Li Daoran laughed heartily and said.

"His emotions have stabilized. Whew, his mental state is always fluctuating; I wonder if it's a side effect of constant time-travelling or simply part of his nature," Natasha murmured in relief, standing beside Li Daoran. These words were not transmitted to him, but were part of a private discussion among the others.

"It must be because the pressure is too immense. How can we help him release it?" Hou Liang asked.

"It's not that simple. There are so many depression sufferers in the world; if simply venting were useful, that would be great. What I'm afraid of is that in a moment of desperation, he might choose self-destruction," Natasha sighed and said.

"Are you saying he has depression?" David raised an eyebrow.

"A strong tendency, yes, and the early signs are already showing. What he mentioned just now—giving up and becoming a savage—is very likely his truest inner desire. Many depression patients commit suicide for a similar reason: they simply want to cast off the pressure weighing on them. And the pressure he's under is something you and I can both imagine; it truly is more than an ordinary person can bear. Showing these signs is completely normal," Natasha analyzed carefully.

"Then what is the solution?" Charles asked after a moment of deep thought. Among everyone present, Natasha had the deepest expertise in psychology, so she was the only one to consult.

"Give him a sense of security, or use poison as an antidote to poison. My advice is still to use poison against poison—make him approach the brink of death to demonstrate our stance. The more cautious and careful we are, the greater his pressure will grow. The safer an environment we try to provide, the more unsafe he will actually feel," Natasha said, glaring at the doctor nearby as she finished.

"Fine. Though your plan carries some risk," David said.

"No risk? If we didn't take risks, could we be running these experiments right now? Is it the same thing if we demand he do it versus him conceiving it and demanding it himself? Right now, it all depends on how much he can endure under pressure. I've told you before, he is more cautious than any of us, so whenever we ask him to take a risk, his very first thought is how to stay safe. So everything is under our control now, isn't it?" Natasha swept her gaze across the room, her aura as an empress fully on display.

If Li Daoran were to hear their conversation, his jaw would surely drop. He clearly thought of the idea entirely on his own, so how on earth did it suddenly become "under their control"? He must have forgotten that in ancient times, there existed a supreme art of officialdom: making everything appear to be the emperor's own idea.

As a minister, I may not agree, but since Your Majesty has decreed it, we shall do as you say. But in reality, was the minister truly ignorant or unaware of the matter? Not necessarily. It was simply because the matter required the emperor to act and carried risks for him, meaning the emperor alone had to propose it. The emperor might even state his plan, while the minister would have to offer repeated, feigned objections—otherwise, how else could loyalty be demonstrated?

At this moment, the treatment Li Daoran was receiving far surpassed that of an ancient emperor. In the past, only a handful of people studied a monarch's psychology, whereas Li Daoran had countless people scrutinizing his every micro-expression, over and over again, for more than a month. To say they hadn't gained some mastery over his mind would be quite untrue.