Five Frozen Centuries

Chapter 230: Small Book

Translator: Atlas Studios Editor: Atlas Studios

Sunlight shone through the skylight and shone on the old man’s body. From this angle, he looked like an ordinary old man. His hair was white, and his face was covered in wrinkles.

He looked very ordinary. Wei Huo hid and approached the old man.

The moment he saw the notebook, Wei Huo understood everything. This ordinary notebook was the Codex. Rule Power flowed in the book. Whoever’s name was written in it had to abide by the laws in the Codex forever. Otherwise, they would die.

That was the rule.

Wei Huo arrived in front of the old man and saw his eyes. He really wanted to know what the man who ruled the city with the mere lift of a pen was like. He wanted to know how sharp his eyes were. Was this what a real emperor was like?

Unexpectedly, the old man’s eyes were calm and even contained a tinge of kindness. He was just an ordinary old man. He could not be any more ordinary, but the burden on his shoulders was not ordinary at all.

The old man waited for about three minutes. He seemed to be deep in thought, but at the same time, he did not seem to be lost in thought. Three minutes was not a long time, but it was very precious to the old man. The period of peace he could enjoy was probably only three minutes before he started writing.

He did not want to think about anything. Actually, he was happy about something.

Then, the old man picked up the fountain pen.

At that moment, the old man’s eyes emitted an extremely dazzling light. His sharp eyes seemed to be able to see every corner of the city through the stone table.

There was no doubt that the fountain pen was just an ordinary fountain pen. There was nothing special about it. In fact, because it had been used for long periods of writing, it had been burnished from the friction. The paint on its surface had also worn off.

However, the old man who had picked up the brush seemed to have turned into a God at that moment. The aura emitted from his body made this small world become a Divine Realm.

How could a person’s temperament change so drastically after they picked up a brush? That was probably because countless people’s fates were tied to this old man from the moment he picked up the brush.

The old man took off the brush cap and revealed the tip of the golden fountain pen. The tip of the pen flickered with golden light, and beautiful patterns were carved on it. There was a crack at the tip of the pen, and black ink began to drip down from the crack. In the end, it filled the crack, and the golden tip was split into two by black ink.

Then, the old man picked up his pen and looked at the information on the side. He started writing the names in his notebook.

He was not writing fast, but his strokes were firm. He made every stroke very seriously, as this name would decide a person’s life.

Wei Huo walked over and sat opposite the old man. He saw the old man constantly jotting down new names in his notebook. After he finished writing names, the ink would be depleted very soon. A faint, moist fragrance was emitted with a rejuvenating effect.

However, when the old man wrote the tenth name, he suddenly stopped because Wei Huo’s figure had appeared.

The old man paused. His continuously imposing aura was suddenly cut off. His eyes flickered non-stop and eventually became calm and peaceful. He lifted his pen but did not write the remaining half of the name. He covered the pen with the cap and looked up at Wei Huo calmly.

The old man saw Wei Huo’s eyes. They were a pair of eyes that contained nirvanic extermination, as though they were a bottomless abyss.

The old man understood everything when he saw those eyes.

He closed his notebook and put away his fountain pen. He then walked aside, poured two cups of tea, and placed a cup on the stone table in front of Wei Huo.

“Please have some tea,” the old man said calmly.

At that moment, he seemed to have turned back into an ordinary old man.

Wei Huo glanced at the ordinary notebook. It was closed, and its cover was black. There was not a single word on it. It looked very ordinary. A notebook with such a cover could be bought for five yuan at a stationery shop.

“Can I take a look at this notebook?” Wei Huo asked.

The old man said, “Sure.”

Wei Huo reached out with his hand. The notebook did not leave the stone table. It was just turned around, and then Wei Huo turned to the first page.

He read the content of the notebook. It was exactly the same as the copy of the Codex Revised Edition. However, the notebook was obviously thinner than the copy of the Codex Revised Edition. Wei Huo flipped through it and realized that this book could not be finished.

It was an Infinite Book that one could never be flipped to the end. Wei Huo flipped through it quickly. The law content in the Codex was soon over. Following that, names had been written one after another. The first names had been written in a traditional font with a brush.

Wei Huo kept flipping through the notebook. He did not know when the names had started becoming simplified. The blue, red, and black words were also not the same. That meant that many people had written other people’s names in the notebook.

In the end, Wei Huo stopped flipping through the pages when he saw three names: Gao Huo, Golden Armor, and Xiao Qian.

The difference of a single word could reverse everything. That was how simple stories typically were.

One wrong word had changed everything. It had changed the fate of the notebook, the old man’s fate, and the city’s fate.

The old man understood everything. He handed over the fountain pen in his hand and said, “Please write my name down in the notebook.”

Wei Huo did not take the pen. His goal was not to become the new ruler of the city. His goal was to completely refine this nomological creation and make it his own. He wanted to turn the Codex into the Book of Death.

The old man placed the brush on the stone table and said, “I’ve been waiting for this moment for over 50 years. I can’t write anymore.”

The old man seemed to think of Wei Huo as his heir. He then added, “A long time ago, I barged into this huge stone array and tried to change everything by myself. However, I eventually became a member of this cycle.”

At that moment, Wei Huo said, “The real method should exist in people’s hearts. People respect it, but they are not afraid of it.”

The old man lifted his head and said slowly, “Everyone knows this. However, if you stop writing, this world will be destroyed.”

Wei Huo knew what the old man meant. If people realized that the law no longer punished people who committed crimes, the resentment and anger accumulated in their hearts would be released in an instant. There would only be one outcome: Everything would end.

However, Wei Huo, who practiced the Dao of Nirvana, was used to seeing things end. Everything in the world would come to an end eventually. Everything would wither away. The planet under his feet would die, the sun hanging high in the sky would die, and the universe and the world would also die one day.

Everything in the world would die, but it would also be reborn. There would be no construction if the world was not destroyed. This was reincarnation.

That was why Wei Huo did something. He tore off every page of the notebook. However, this notebook was limitless. Even after he tore so many pages, the book did not become thinner.

The old man watched Wei Huo tear off the book silently. He did not say anything. He only sighed softly.

Wei Huo threw the torn pages away and said softly, “I’ll destroy it.”