Chapter 143: All Contact Lost

The news quickly spread that the large client convoy team, uniting with various small and major sheds, was preparing to forge a Lost Mind Engine to stabilize the mountain range, stirring up countless discussions and skeptical gazes.
Many more light clusters appeared in the sky, as if probing the truth of this news.
In the twilight, the bustling market remained lively, and among the flowing crowds on the streets, a faint silhouette of a figure flickered for a moment, then vanished into obscurity.
Several passing pedestrians walked through laughing and talking from where it stood.
The man standing quietly here, sensing the movement of passersby, felt as if he were detached from the world.
[Nothing belongs to me.]
He enjoyed it gently as he raised his hand; the phantom arm visible only to himself flickered with light, the palm clenched into a fist.
[And everything is mine to take.]
Wuying gazed at the countless bobbing heads, as if beholding his own subjects.
His eyes looked toward a wooden hut outside the market, guarded by several protectors. With a soft laugh and embracing the lively street scene, he withdrew his hands and walked deep into the market.
Inside the hut, candlelight emanated a warm glow.
“Mr. Zicang, this is a precious document we’ve collected. I hear the head team leader cultivates psychic techniques; if it’s you, you would likely be able to read this file.”
Yang Zicang looked at the booklet Yuanlong the shed master had solemnly handed him.
He opened it and saw that it featured scattered drawings of twisting patterns, with marks like “Heaven,” “Earth,” and “East, West, South, North” beside them.
Apart from that, there were no other explanations.
“This is?”
In the room, Yuanlong slightly tilted his head, sensing the surroundings. Assured no one was at the door, he spoke in a low voice:
“It’s Hui He’s lackey whom we took down led us to dig out this. Head team leader, Mo Shengyang, this is a blueprint for an auto-craft shed.”
“An auto-craft shed?”
A glimmer of light lit up Yang Zicang’s eyes. “So that’s what it is. This is something good. But…”
He carefully examined them, attempting to memorize the patterns, but felt that with even a slight effort, his mind became foggy and chaotic, as if he was about to fall asleep, strongly resisting continuing to read. This symptom was even more severe than reading a physics or chemistry book.
After Yang Zicang had flipped through a few pages, Yuanlong nodded in satisfaction.
“Truly worthy of being the Sub-dimension Squad Leader—your willpower is remarkably strong. If it were me, by this point I would have gone mad and tossed the book away long ago.”
“Is it that terrifying?”
“And these are already the decomposed magical patterns. Otherwise, with a complete magical pattern in hand, merely attempting to memorize it could damage one’s mental faculties. This power from another realm is truly mysterious and profound.”
“Still, being able to build an automated shed could indeed save us a lot of effort and greatly aid our plan to stabilize the mountains and forests.”
Yuanlong said, “Yes, and with a quadrilateral like the Sub-dimension Squad Leader serving as the core of the automated shed, we might be able to significantly enhance the Wandering Engines of quite a few quadrilaterals. This is the real reason I have confidence in stabilizing those several mountains!”
“Ascend cylinder?”
Yang Zicang immediately thought of the anomaly that appeared the first time he created a kerosene lamp Wandering Engine—it was clearly a broken-line model, yet it became a three-cylinder Wandering Engine.
Although the probability of transitioning from a triangle to a quadrilateral was even lower, there was at least still a glimmer of hope, provided that a quadrilateral model was used in creation. And he himself was exactly that quadrilateral.
The middle-aged man drew closer and said, “Sub-dimension Squad Leader, do you know how large an area a single quadrilateral model can stabilize?”
Yang Zicang narrowed his gaze slightly. “How large?”
“At least seven or eight hundred square meters, at most… perhaps an entire slope of land… no, even half a mountain—provided it doesn’t include deep-seated minerals. So, stability alone isn’t enough; we need to dig deep tunnels to secure it. By deploying several more seals, that stretch of land can truly exist, even naturally forming thousands of meters beneath the surface.”
“Another form of terrain aggregation phenomenon?”
Yang Zicang took a deep breath.
So this was Yuanlong’s confidence. No wonder he was the director of the Lijiang Greenhouse District; his plans weren’t made without basis—chilling, yet founded on reason and evidence. A surge of warmth rose in Yang Zicang’s heart. This seemingly impossible plan now held a glimmer of hope for completion.
He just had to wait… until after winter…
He glanced at the documents in his hand, flipped through them, then looked up at the middle-aged man before him.
“Besides the magic inscriptions, there are no layout designs for the dwellings?”
“All the secrets of the auto-formation shed lie within these magic sigils. Those extravagant roofs are merely shells hiding them beneath the walls and floors.
“In theory, carving these sigils on just a few bricks would still allow you to successfully build an auto-formation shed—provided someone had the psychic energy strong enough to inscribe them.”
Yuanlong sighed, stroked his beard, then smiled and shifted the topic:
“Also, if Captain Zijian builds an auto-formation shed here, you won’t be able to create another for a month or two, not even nearby. So this will come at a cost to your interests.”
“What sacrifice is that?”
After roughly flipping through the documents, Yang Zicang tapped them against his hand, feeling his mind slowly clear back to lucidity.
“No problem, I’ll give it a try.”
There was no mention of giving or copying, but as long as he could carve the magic patterns himself, why worry about not being able to transcribe them?
The moment he made up his mind, a voice rang in his thoughts.
[You have gained fame, in the Lost Frequency Land.]
[Your current fame is above 10, with a score of 42.]
Hadn’t this already been said that Sunday? Just as Yang Zicang thought this, the voice continued.
[You have already had a profound influence on the Lost Frequency Land, and the Editor-in-Chief has taken notice of your existence.]
Feeling secretly pleased, Yang Zicang was stunned for a moment.
“Editor-in-Chief?”
Who was that? Never heard of them. This name didn’t appear in the handbook either.
Knock. Knock-knock.
A knocking sound came. After Yang Zicang and Shed Master Yuanlong glanced at the wooden door, the middle-aged man cupped his hands in salute and said:
“Then I’ll leave it to you, Captain Zijian. I’ll immediately prepare to arrange the big warehouse for carving the self-operating shed.”
“Good. Let’s have it near the meeting hall, it can double as a storage room in the future.”
With these two structures set up, it would basically take shape as a shed district, as if they were starting a large shed area from scratch.
The two shook hands with a smile and were about to exchange some casual pleasantries when the knocking came again. The person on the other side seemed impatient and asked:
“Chairman Zijian, are you in there?”
“Chairman?”
Since when had he acquired that title?
YangZicang walked over and pulled open the door. Outside stood a man who looked somewhat familiar, seemingly the one who had come with the owner of the Single Frequency Inn earlier. Come to think of it, it had been over a day since he had last seen that guy.
“What’s the matter?”
The man glanced at Yuanlong, who was stepping away from YangZicang, and said anxiously:
“Please link to the Mental Link I’ve assigned to you.”
With that, a silver thread of light refracted toward him.
YangZicang didn’t refuse. The moment the connection was established, he saw a distant image—a patch of flat land.
He was a bit startled. The place seemed somewhat familiar, yet it carried an eerie sense of unfamiliarity. Moreover, distorted energy was quivering on the ground.
“What does this mean? Where is this?”
The man standing below the doorstep swallowed his saliva and spoke in a terrified tone:
“It’s… the Single Frequency Inn.”
YangZicang was frozen on the spot.
A chill crept over him—the Single Frequency Inn, which hid many secrets, had silently disappeared without a trace.
{Everyone inside has vanished. No one can be reached. They’ve all lost contact. I think Mr. Zhuang and the others are… no longer with us.}
“No longer… with us?”
YangZicang looked more closely.
The site where the Single Frequency Inn had stood was now a stretch of soft, fine dirt with only faint traces remaining from the deep basement, as if the entire structure had been lifted out and uprooted.
Such power was terrifying—directly annihilating everything within the space, leaving not even ashes behind. Its destruction was so swift that no message could be sent out.
“Did you see anyone special leaving?”
In the sensory image, two or three figures stood outside. Some held lunch boxes, while others sat weakly beside the sheathed knives abandoned on the ground.
The one who unleashed the model held a birdcage in one hand and a rabbit cage containing light red ink-colored crystals in the other, saying:
{No, sir, but we did find this.}
In the sensory image, that person walked to a spot beyond where the fence originally stood, where several extra wheel ruts were visible, their tire prints clear and unmistakable.
Yang Zicang’s heart grew extraordinarily heavy.
Against such power, he likely had no way to respond.
Who could it be that annihilated everyone in the entire inn, leaving them utterly unable to transmit any information?
This terror already surpassed the Defenders. Even if Zhao Anlong were tasked with destroying such an inn, he could never achieve such clean efficiency as to completely halt all message transmissions.
“Crushing-level strength.”
{That’s right, Captain Zijian. As for our Dufeng Inn in the future…}
“Let’s lay low for now. If the other senior members contact you, feel free to consult their opinions as well.”
{Captain Zijian, among all the senior members, I see you as the strongest and most trustworthy. How about you become our new leader from now on?}
Yang Zicang’s mouth twitched slightly.
He didn’t actually have much to do with Dufeng Inn; it was these people who kept pestering him to earn their Chrono-Longitude credits. The former leader had just died, and immediately they wanted him to step in. He didn’t even know who they were, so why would he take on such an absurd task?
The speaker meant no harm, but Yang Zicang felt a shadow of gloom in his heart because of those words.
Mori had been unconscious since some time ago, and now, Mr. Zhuang, who had some connection with him, suddenly died. The dangers of this world were too sudden and too inexplicable.
He fell into thought for a moment, then turned to look in the direction of the several large mountains.
A wise man does not stand where a wall is about to collapse. He didn’t even know what the danger was, where it came from, or how it manifested; staying here in such a conspicuous manner was very risky.
The plan to boost his reputation with those mountains was ruined—he had to evacuate as soon as possible.
As he pondered, a figure rushed out onto the wide path formed by several wooden houses.
“Captain Zijian.”
Zhou Liren stopped in front of Yang Zicang in a panic. He glanced at the messenger beside him, who took the hint and excused himself, heading somewhere else.
“What’s the rush?”
“It’s Wuying,” Zhou Liren said anxiously to Yang Zicang.