Chapter 158: Blurred Screen

“So that’s it. I thought it was some manifested model ability. By the way, I saw him using an Ability Sphere, with such powerful temporal-storage capacity—who is he?”
Everyone in the room expressed ignorance.
Inside the main hall.
Queen Rose listened as the sounds outside gradually quieted, and the strange mental torment had ceased for some time.
“He’s gone.”
The girls who had surrounded Xu Aiyuan in tight circles to protect her finally dared to let go and lift their heads.
The girl with a youthful face, struck by a coin, tearfully picked up the glowing speckled coin.
The information contained within it emerged in her mind.
“[Life Bank: 100N.]”
“[I can use an additional 100N.]”
Her body trembled slightly, then she looked up at the gaze of the big sister figure, who watched her with a gentle smile.
“It’s only a hundred years.”
She spoke in a small, somewhat embarrassed voice.
Possessing Time Sequence allowed her face to appear rejuvenated, but her innocent, childlike temperament was hard to feign. Xu Aiyuan looked at the girl before her—this was likely her actual age, yet she had fearlessly protected her.
At that moment, a hint of comfort welled up in the heart of the Rose Queen.
She took the coin, which bore the usual stamped characters: “Xi-Cang First Year.”
[I can use an additional 100N.]
Her beautiful eyes swept over the ground in the distance, revealing scattered charcoal pieces glowing faintly nearby—a cheap, widespread craft item on the floor.
Xu Aiyuan smoothed the qipao over her legs and sat down on a chair, then gently clasped the iron coin in her palm. “That scoundrel.”
Haphazard footsteps came from outside the hall.
The women looked toward the hall’s entrance, but the person from before had vanished without a trace.
……
The night.
The train raced onward at breakneck speed.
Occasionally passing inhabited areas, onlookers spied the ghostly, eerie phantom train, bulletlike as it tore past above the shantytown, fleeing in all directions.
“Twelve of them now.”
Another one had been pulled out nearby. The young man on the train, Little Liu, seemed to let out a huge sigh of relief; they were nearly halfway there. Zuo Feixian felt a bit uneasy as he glanced at the others in the carriage, still uncertain whether what he was doing was right or wrong. If it was wrong, it might bring catastrophic disaster to all of humanity on the face of the earth. But he had no choice.
Yang Zicang took out a map and crossed off several circled locations on it with a pen.
“On the map given to us by that mysterious being, there are only about thirty pieces of the Sacred Stones marked.”
“Based on the scenes those little ones showed us just now, it seems there are more than thirty pieces of the Sacred Stones on the earth.”
Yang Zicang thought for a moment, then looked at the group of people in front of him:
“I imagine only this many are needed to handle the situation…”
Boom! The train surged through with a roar like breaking through a calm lake’s surface, whistling outside as it plunged into darkness deeper than a mountain tunnel—it was breaking through a mountain range.
Luo Bin said cautiously, “Further ahead, there are many encampments under the Red Model; we must not be careless.”
“The Sacred Stone they transported to Rose Creek earlier might have come from nearby encampments. The map marks two Sacred Stones closest to Rose Queen Guo Juan. If what we’re looking for at our current destination isn’t there, we’ll head straight to the more distant one.”
“Good.”
The train whooshed through the mountains and plains. The outline of a ragged settlement emerged ahead—almost no bustle or noise there.
Suddenly, a small ball of light flew down.
It was an unfamiliar little creature, looking quite cocky.
{Famous person alert.}
“What’s wrong?”
Yang Zicang looked at him. The little creature landed on a large divine stone, lay on its side propping its head with one hand, and waved the other, setting up a faint force field to isolate the area.
{We can’t record the area ahead.}
“Can’t record it.”
The group’s hearts trembled in unison. There was only one possibility for such a situation. They immediately thought of the strange scene when Xiao, the officer, appeared.
“Ahead…?”
Yang Zicang said nervously:
“Are you saying that there’s something there like…”
{I’ve already broken the rules, alright! Just be careful—it’s best to leave immediately.}
With that, a burst of electric sparks suddenly erupted from the little messenger.
Crackle! Crackle!
The little creature’s whole body was immediately struck as if by lightning, its face blackened, its hair scorched and standing on end.
It glared at Yang Zicang with its tiny eyes, then got up, transformed into a glowing ball with trails of smoke, and flew crookedly through the carriage up into the void.
“The little reporter is risking danger to help you.”
“Ma Chao, bypass the settlement ahead.”
The train had already heard the warning.
Just as it was about to approach the unusually quiet settlement, it suddenly swerved in an arc, charging into the darkness away from the surroundings.
In this settlement, a silhouette as tall as a hill sat on a wide, exquisite blanket, its height matching the houses.
That was actually the body of a person.
In its hand, it held a rock bound by chains, surrounded by human corpses.
The dozen or so survivors crouched trembling on the ground, continuously writing something on the papers before them.
“It actually turned and left.”
This man stood up, nearly ten meters tall, like an oversized sumo wrestler. His short robe rippled without wind, adorned with embroidered images of shifting mountain mists and oceans.
“He must have discovered I’m here—the reporter must have snitched. Are they not planning to acknowledge the editor-in-chief?”
“Secretary Shan.”
The two oddly shaped, short figures beside him looked up with reverence and asked, “Should we chase that celebrity tour?”
“Of course—we can’t let these ignorant fools gather the Spirit Haunts.”
He looked down at the people below, trembling from his words.
“You keep writing your life stories, especially about Earth. Write more—that world seems quite interesting.”
The short figure added cheerfully:
“What a pity it’s just a civilization born a few thousand years ago. These people’s tales are at best a seasoning to be read as fiction, not even a tenth as magnificent as what Your Greatness has experienced.”
“But they are invaluable seasoning nonetheless, since most of our time has been spent in psychic illusions. I’ll be off now.”
Secretary Shan sat cross-legged on the enormous rug, his body surging with energy. The large floral carpet floated off the ground. In the next second, it shot off into the distance. A few seconds after he left, a thunderous boom echoed as a sonic boom rippled through the distance.
Boom!
The disturbed air overturned their clothes, papers, and the bloodstains on the ground. The servant-like, sharp-nosed little man suddenly turned his head, a ruthless glint flashing in his eyes.
“You beasts! If these papers are lost, you’ll pay with your lives to make up for it!”
The group panicked, scrambling frantically to catch the flying papers.
The train raced through the air at high speed. Yang Zicang sensed something and turned to look through the semi-transparent dark carriage toward the rear.
A small black dot was zipping toward them at incredible speed from the dark glow on the horizon.
“Something is chasing us.”
The others turned to look as the small black dot slowly grew larger.
An invisible pressure met them head-on.
“What is that?!”
“Whatever it is, Little Ma Chao, speed up!”
Whoosh—
The train seemed to pick up a little speed, but the distance it had gained quickly began to shrink again.
After about a minute, Little Liu and the others could already see a huge, floating floral rug bearing the figure of a sturdy, imposing man. He had a topknot, wore a delicate short robe with wide sleeves that bared his chest and belly, and had eyes like those of a dragon or a tiger, radiating a mountain-like aura.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The relentless sonic booms drew the attention of people for dozens of miles around.
In the distant darkness, someone stood on an undulating hilltop and looked over.
“What is that?”
They saw the ghostly train racing at top speed across the barren land, with a huge figure chasing after it like a shot from a cannon, drawing closer and closer.
“The ones up ahead should be the main supply convoy, and the ones behind…”
“Could they be the Moon-Shadow Monsters?”
People on the hillside watched the two streaks disappear at high speed, puzzled.
Inside Pivot Town.
The employee responsible for the screens monitoring Yang_Zicang and his group couldn’t hold back—he reached out and patted the flickering curved-panel monitor.
Those around him stared in shock at his action.
“What do you think you’re doing!”
“Courting death, are you? At something like that?”
The young man suddenly came to his senses. “Ah, sorry, everyone—the signal keeps dropping.”
Someone speculated uncertainly:
“It’s fine. Probably the little journalists got distracted with other matters. Maybe they’ve grown tired of watching the train race along.”
Everyone in the observation room turned their attention to the other screens. After all, all across the Disrupted Frequency Zone, there was either conflict or debate; many figures who ordinarily wouldn’t merit notice were now unleashing their true abilities on the monitors, drawing silent admiration from the viewers.
There were many hidden ability users of great potential across that land.
Only, they might not know it themselves, or those around them couldn’t tap into it. Tonight’s sudden upheaval, however, had brought them into the spotlight.
“That screen signal has dropped too.”
One person pointed at a snow-covered feed in the upper left corner.
“Isn’t that shelter area in the middle of a lively fight?”
“There are clashes everywhere… the little journalists must be bored. Oh! Yang_Zicang’s feed is back.”
All eyes gathered on those screens. Inside, the train was picking up speed, but it went out again in just a few seconds.
This time, four or five screens focusing on Yang Zicang all simultaneously cut off the broadcast perspective.
“Something’s wrong.” Zhuyin faced forward with a serious look, one hand on his hip and the other propping himself against the edge of the solid wooden table.
No sooner had he spoken than these disrupted screens all simultaneously displayed the rushing train again. However, the little reporters seemed to have tacitly zoomed in together.
But within two seconds, the image that had already zoomed in went out again!
“Damn! Something must be up.”
“Is there something interfering with the reporters’ broadcasts?”
Without needing Zhuyin to point it out, everyone had noticed the peculiarity.
The atmosphere in the room suddenly changed.
Could this be the reason for day turning into night?
If there was anything extraordinary about the Lost Frequencies Territory, it would absolutely be these little creatures of unknown origins. They were carefree, and no harm could truly hurt them. They were almost invincible.
But now, something unknown could interfere with them, and these things were chasing that shadowy train.
“The train has sped up several times. It’s definitely trying to escape. It’s already missed several shed areas.” The crowd said anxiously.
“Let me ask what’s going on.” A model emerged from Zhuyin’s chest.
“Deputy Town Head, tonight, Yang Zicang might be the fuse. Are you sure it’s okay for you to step in and ask?”
“There’s no time to worry about that.”