Chapter 4: I Am a Quadrilateral

Just as the inner light was about to fade, it fell upon Yang Zicang.
On the upper level, the three who were about to rush out of the exit suddenly felt the ground tremble.
“What’s going on?”
“It’s that tremor again. Could there be another monster?”
The two old men’s faces turned pale as they dashed toward the stairs. Mu Xiaoyu’s expression changed several times, and when she saw Yang Zicang still hadn’t appeared, she anxiously started to cry.
After hesitating, she ran backward, but an old hand grabbed her.
“Don’t go. He made his own choice, so let’s respect it.”
“You can’t help.”
Wisps of black mist emerged from the surrounding walls.
An unsettling aura spread through the air.
This truly was yet another monster about to be born—one that would feed on the three of them, for wisps of energy emanated faintly from their bodies, resonating with the creature in some kind of connection.
“Maybe he wants to follow Old Huang’s example, huh. Let’s get out of here. In this world, nobody is truly worth trusting.”
The two elders urged her.
After a moment of inner struggle, the woman nodded and hurried toward the exit alongside the two aging figures.
At the subway platform, Yang Zicang’s body was enveloped in streaks of light.
He sensed a consciousness attempting to invade his mind, but it was still faint—like a newly hatched chick, easily grasped and controlled.
At the same time, a heavier, denser presence was spreading from the level above.
Within his heart, a speck of light began to take shape.
Time ticked away, and minutes later, Yang Zicang felt several wavy beams pulsing and contracting in the cavity of his chest. Intense light wrapped around him.
Hooo—
A gust of wind howled from the tunnel—the direction the train had left—and it was now coming back.
At the subway entrance, Huang Xu and the giant caterpillar-like Hell Train stood peering into the tunnel, which was now thick with a suffocating atmosphere.
{The bad guy is inside.}
“Good, good, the bad guy. Let’s go eat him up.” Huang Xu muttered almost trance-like as he made his way into the underground passage.
In the distance, Bai Yuan squinted as the two monsters chasing him turned and headed downward below.
Suddenly, another faint, thread-like triangular light appeared before him. Yang Zicang instantly perceived another scene.
It was in the living room of a residence. A man in black clothes was sitting cross-legged on a tatami, with a small sculpture, like a figurine, placed on the coffee table in front of him.
{You survived and have lasted this long.}
“It’s you?”
This voice was familiar—it was the person from the bus.
He could actually communicate with others without going through a television. He had an ability similar to Bai Yuan’s!
{Although I can hear you when you speak over there, you’d better communicate with me through the mind.}
[What do you want to say?]
Sensing the image of the room where that person was, Yang Zicang asked quickly.
He felt that he was now at a critical moment.
{What else? Of course, it’s about Temporal Sequence. So, how about a deal? I’ll tell you how to obtain the ability, and you’ll pay me with Temporal Sequence.}
[I’m already in the process of doing that.]
{That’s why I came. If you forcibly condense the model like this recklessly, it’s hard to succeed. And also, something is coming soon. I can tell you a simple method; otherwise, you’ll only be devoured and killed by these people.}
Yang Zhengcang experienced a sensation, as if he could forcibly cut off this yet-unstable connection.
He did so without hesitation, a nameless impulse supporting his decision. His gut felt that this person was a liar!
{You will regret this…}
The ochre-yellow train screeched to a halt, and seven or eight doors swiftly slid open, one dazed body after another rising stiffly in succession.
Thump, thump, thump…
Yang Zicang could hear the distant beat of a heartbeat, belonging to some incubating monster in the upper level.
Had it not been for the lack of nutrients, it would have been born long ago.
It was drawing on its own aura, striving to be born into the world.
The crowd surged from the ochre-yellow train’s doors, charging toward Yang Zicang.
The surrounding walls, lights, advertisements, elevators, even handrails and other objects, swiftly turned into energy and melded into the small halo in his heart, within which images of tracks twisted and intersected appeared, as subway cars quickly and orderly wove through them.
“Faster, faster!”
Yang Zicang was intensely anxious; this tide of people was only a few meters away from him.
The form of the subway station emerged in his mind, twisting and shifting, trying to shape a prototype of the monster, but it was continuously absorbed by the halo on his chest, forming a sliver of light as thin as a hair.
“Roar~”
“Devour him, the parasite…”
“How dare you eat our brothers!”
“Die!”
Densely packed arms reached out.
All the energy in his chest transformed into light, which then folded into two segments, folded again, becoming a triangle.
One line of the triangle twisted, stretched, broke again, produced new lines, and became a square.
A torrent of information flooded into his mind, flickering like a screen swipe.
[I am the chosen one, this is my… initial model.]
Within the perceptual viewpoint, a glimmer of light filled with information emerged.
[I am a quadrilateral.]
[My ability is…]
“Boom!”
He snapped his eyes open, twin pupils flickering with a faint, unformed light.
The square shape twisted and rotated around him; the crowd charging at him seemed to miss their target, running past with outstretched hands.
The surging crowd circled around him, while he stood firm as the eye of the storm.
This was a function manifestation from the subway station.
Just as Bai Yuan’s ability was suspected to be a force field.
His was… dispatch.
“So it’s a four-wire.” A short, burly figure appeared within the train.
His gaze was like a dragon’s, eyebrows flying wildly, clad in dark, metallic armor with flame-like eyes on each shoulder, and carrying a thick, black hardcover book in his hands.
The monster eye on the armor shifted, glancing at Yang Zicang.
{You, join us, and live.}
{Flee, and die.}
“Who are you?”
“I am Zhang Fei.”
This man pointed at the peculiar red-yellow subway car and said, “This is Ma Chao.”
“Heh, hahaha.” A ferocious grin spread across Yang Zicang’s face: “Zhang Fei, you call yourself that? Do you think this is the Three Kingdoms era?”
{Wah yah yah, what nerve. You die now.}
Rumbling sounds echoed from the upper floor, the elevator entrance was slammed, the bus monster blocked there, and surrounding walls began to turn translucent.
The short, burly man leaped high, wavering triangles appearing along his body.
“Just an ant with a few years of life to live!”
The armored man’s hands flashed with light as he threw a punch, immense pressure striking the air.
Yang Zicang’s form flickered as he darted through the raging crowd like a fluid fish.
“Bang!”
The man crashed into the crowd, smashing several controlled passengers to the ground, creating a crater that splattered flesh and blood.
He rose, casting a cold gaze at Yang Zicang, who had escaped a few meters away.
These dozens of people chasing after him were completely useless, except for being obstacles. “Zhang Fei” couldn’t help but wonder, was this guy’s power to disorient people?
But compared to me, he’s still a bit green.
The bus monster slammed the elevator entrance at the ground floor wider, and Huang Xu’s figure appeared at the underground entrance, saying:
“You’ve gained powers too—got to admit, your sharpness is impressive. How does it feel, isn’t it wonderful?”
Thump, thump, thump…
The drum-like heartbeat grew stronger, the oppressive pressure intensifying with it.
From inside the round talisman at Yang Zicang’s heart space, Yang Zicang felt the square symbol constantly emitting urges of fury and hatred.
Had he devoured a monster’s offspring?
This was the effect the monster had on him.
He felt a chill across his body, becoming brutal and bloodthirsty.
Suddenly, on the stocky man’s chest, a faint red circle lit up, with indistinct red lines flickering. He inverted himself, hanging from the subway station ceiling, and charged forward swiftly.
“I share the surname Zhang! This great armor’s power is to race anywhere like the wind. What’s wrong with calling it Zhang Fei?!”
{Kill it, kill it! How dare it deny my identity, kill it!}
The monster armor’s voice roared in his mind.
Yang Zicang turned his head and saw the inverted figure running toward him, raising a book with both hands like a broadsword about to slash down.
On the book’s spine, drawing closer and closer, four bold characters gleamed clearly—<> (Sanguo Yanyi).
“Holy shit!”
Twisting his foot, Yang Zicang dove behind a massive pillar.
BOOM!
The stocky man slammed into the pillar, knocking a chunk out of its corner.
“Why show that monster the Three Kingdoms? Why not read Water Margin? There are characters in there that suit you better.”
“Bastard!” the stocky man bellowed in rage.
Yang Zicang’s remark seemed to strike a sore spot, sending the man roaring and leaping in fury.
[The circuit… Dispatch!]
The quadrangle wildly expanded and flickered. In the narrowest of gaps, Yang Zicang brushed past him.
With a thud, a dent appeared beside his body.
Yang Zicang twisted around and dashed toward the subway tunnel opposite, running along it into the distance. A group of people jumped down to give chase from behind.
His chest heaved; even with the help of the model, this flurry of actions nearly took his breath away.
Ring-ring, ring-ring.
The phone in his pocket vibrated. Panting heavily, he pulled it out for a glance—a long sequence—a stranger’s number.
With his thumb, he directly pressed the speaker, listening while he ran.
“You have made your choice.”
“I made a choice?” Yang Zicang said, still gasping.
“Just as some choose to ‘accelerate,’ you and yours have chosen to ‘destroy.’”
The steely, unfamiliar voice continued.
“Your deepest thought led you to make a different decision. From now on, both sides will walk different paths, each fighting for the new possibilities that lie ahead.”
“You… call me, just to…”
“Of course not. I want to help you. Send us a Mental Link as soon as you can. That’s a basic instinct of the model. You only need to think about how to use it, and you’ll know.”
With that “nudge” from the voice, as if by pure instinct, Yang Zicang willed the model to emit a flashing silver thread!
One corner of the square stretched out, extending into the nothingness ahead.
[Someone wants to commission me to defeat the pursuers. If I’m willing to distribute fifty percent of the spoils’ share as dividends, they should invest in me.]
This is both an idea and an inner voice.
A thought that is not his own!