Xu Aiyuan approached with steps as graceful as a willow in the wind. She smoothed the torn gap in the sheet with her hand and let out a soft laugh:
“It’s okay. Maybe a thread just came loose. This was something I made not long after I learned needlework; it was time to mend it anyway. Don’t make fun of my craftsmanship, Mr. Zicang.”
The girl outside shook her head and pouted. “You two chat. I’ll go get the hangover soup for the one who tore the quilt.”
Yang Zicang sighed softly, having no choice but to quietly take the blame.
Once she left, Xu Aiyuan covered her mouth with her hand and smiled. “Last night, Mr. Zicang said you wanted to talk business, so I had them let you stay. Everyone was drinking quite a bit, and I was also worried you might run into danger on the road.”
“Thank you for your kindness.”
Morrie and Boboli actually trust this woman quite a bit, Yang Zicang couldn’t help but grumble inwardly. Yet, recalling last night, when the woman beside him resolutely sacrificed herself to prevent the impromptu bandaged doctor—played by the young journalist—from threatening everyone, Yang Zicang felt a swirl of mixed emotions. Such a decisive move was something even he couldn’t have pulled off.
Xu Aiyuan sat by the bedside, gazing at Yang Zicang’s face.
“Nowadays, countless people are keeping an eye on you in the shadows. One misstep, and you could be utterly doomed. From now on, except when… you should drink less.”
Yang Zicang’s hands unconsciously tightened around the blanket.
“Thank you,” he said, lowering his head. “By the way,” he looked up again, “you must have passed the test for the ‘Lost Illusion Company,’ right? Did you get an invitation?”
Xu Aiyuan nodded.
“Both Starlight Illusion and Candleveil Illusion have sent me special invitations.”
A flicker of light shone in Yang Zicang’s eyes.
“That’s great. Once you join the Lost Illusion Company, you won’t have to live in such dangerous places anymore.”
“You seem to know quite a lot. Are you planning to head to the Lost Illusion Company, Mr. Zicang? Oh, I’m just asking out of curiosity.”
“Starlight Illusion gave me an invitation. Which branch of the Lost Illusion Company are you thinking of joining, Miss Aiyuan?”
Xu Aiyuan’s gaze drifted toward the door. The hallway outside was silent, though faint voices of the crowd could be heard further beyond, mingled with the laughter of young girls.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
Yang Zicang paused for a moment, then released the hand that was tightly clenching the blanket.
Before long, Yang Zicang left behind a few training contracts and prepared to leave.
The gentle gaze of the beauty by the bedside fell upon the “training contract” gifted to her by Yang Zicang. It was a contract containing three secret techniques: “Crystal Perception,” “Thousand-Arm Fist,” and “Silent Night.”
Once mastered, one could become a formidable martial artist in little time.
“This fist technique can unleash countless punches instantly, offering strong close-range attack and defense capabilities without needing a weapon. Its main function is to grant you the keen awareness of a martial arts expert, enabling you to subdue anyone who approaches within a breath’s moment.”
Yang Zicang said, “Consider this as compensation for my previous rudeness and last night’s drinks… Well, just use it yourself, but never sell it, okay?”
“Then I’ll gladly accept it without being polite.” Xu Aiyuan replied with a cheerful smile, “Thank you for the gift from the leader of the armed convoy team.”
Yang Zicang hurriedly wanted to leave quickly, as if trying to escape from here.
The woman sitting by the bed watched the tall, thin silhouette that had already taken two steps toward the door.
“Please wait a moment.”
The young man turned around.
She raised her arm toward Yang Zicang, extending her snow-white, clenched fist flatly.
As if reaching out in invitation…
Yang Zicang’s heart thumped twice, and only then did he see the gradually unfolding palm: a coin of his own forging, a Born Treasure.
“Return it to me?”
“In your dreams. But… could you store more time sequence for me? I’ll just treat it… as my talisman.”
“I—I’ll swap you for another one.”
Yang Zicang took out a coin emitting a faint glow and walked up to the woman.
The woman raised her chin to look at him, a warm smile in her eyes.
Yang Zicang’s gaze trailed down from the whiteness of her neck. The hand holding the coin gently covered hers, and a touch of moist sensation spread from his palm like a numbing electric current to his heart.
Their eyes met. Yang Zicang’s heart quivered slightly, yet a somber mood lingered.
“I’m destined to leave,” Yang Zicang said.
“Don’t overthink it. Being liked by others is just a part of my ability—this isn’t true affection. Sorry, I didn’t mean to either.”
A gust of wind whizzed past, and in an instant, the train appeared behind Yang Zicang. The silk scarf automatically drifted to his side before vanishing into the wind.
Li Sumei, carrying the hangover soup, arrived at the doorstep just in time to see Yang Zicang’s back as he hurried away from the other end of the corridor.
“Hey! Blanket-tugger!” She ran after him swiftly with the soup in hand.
When she rounded the great hallway and reached the front of the hall, she saw the young figure outside toss the scarf into the air, where it transformed into a large blanket. He leaped into it with one bound. The giant blanket rode the wind upward, quickly turning into a black speck before disappearing into the horizon.
Xu Aiyuan, wearing pajamas and a thin coat, walked to the front of the hall, gazing toward the gray overcast sky in the distance, where nothing remained.
The wind blowing from the wasteland pressed her clothes against her curves, and for a long time, she did not lower her upturned chin.
Li Sumei turned back, dissatisfied, and said:
“Big sister, I think you should make a decision this time. You don’t like so many people—you won’t even accept someone as powerful and not bad-looking as Evil Thought Blade—and now Heaven has sent you Yang Zicang. There won’t be another one in the future.”
Xu Aiyuan’s clear gaze carried a hint of confusion.
……
Two days later, Yang Zicang, having arranged everything, stepped aboard the ghostly Damingxing train, which shuttled through the gray mist. The invitation emitted a guiding light, leading Xiao Machao through the dense, endless haze.
[{This fog makes me feel timid.}]
For once, Damingxing (Xiao Machao) voluntarily brought up his feelings.
Yang Zicang glanced at the ghostly train. “You’re afraid? Even like this?”
[{You… aren’t you afraid? Why?}]
“Because I have you,” Yang Zicang said teasingly.
Then, he picked up a worn, tattered old magazine from the shelf beside him.
Even for the star’s special train under the protection of Hub Town, which wasn’t entirely under the command of the officials from the two hub towns and required a mountain of promises to board each time, they still managed to place items for entertainment inside.
Like these magazines and the expensive drinks beneath the magazine basket.
{Oh, right, and Little White Shadow. Little White Shadow isn’t afraid either.}
The train murmured as it chugged along.
Despite this, Yang Zicang kept looking up at the terrifying energies outside that seemed capable of extinguishing even death itself.
Suddenly, a solid shadow appeared outside the car.
“Slow down.”
Yang Zicang walked over to the window, where the train had slowed. Amid the mist, where direction and orientation were indistinguishable, a fuzzy silhouette lurked behind the haze, resembling a damaged rock less than two meters wide.
As Yang Zicang stared at it, it suddenly twisted.
After staring for less than a second, Yang Zicang felt a sharp swelling in his mind, as if it were about to burst instantly.
The “Special Invitation Letter” in his hand immediately manifested a beam of light, enveloping him.
Strands of cool, refreshing vapor drifted like spring rain within the light shield, stabilizing Yang Zicang’s blurred consciousness.
[Through the invitation letter, I know. I, the Great Quadrilateral! My mental power level temporarily dropped by three small stages just now.]
{So terrifying, run fast!}
Xiao Machao transformed into a wisp of smoke with a *poof* and darted deeper into the gray mist, leaving the rock far behind, fearing it might come chasing after.
Yang Zicang lowered his head to look at the invitation in his hand.
Besides providing directional guidance, it also had other functions, such as recording his own test data, as if using this as his “interview letter.”
With a mere thought, the data contained within was emitted by the Modal Aura.
[I, the Great Quadrilateral, currently have a mental strength rank of Stage 7 Second Ring, and the recovery time is approximately two to three days.]
[The duration of the curse is half a day.]
“Curse?”
Yang Zicang frowned. He continued to look at the invitation, thinking to himself, “What about the other evaluation data?”
[My good-and-evil tendency value is negative one. The peak of the tendency wave is positive three. There is significant fluctuation in the trend of good and evil, making it difficult to make a fixed evaluation, but it hints at a dangerous mentality.]
[Introductions from the reporter group’s evaluation: Most of the time a good-natured guy with bad intentions. Won’t hurt good friends around him.]
“From negative one to positive three?”
As Yang Zicang probed, this evaluation ranged from negative five to positive five, a total of ten gradients.
He instinctively glanced at the gray mist outside then quickly averted his gaze. He must be careful not to use or indeed see anything else ever again.
“Stage 3 Second Ring… just from looking at that thing, my mental strength dropped from Stage 7 Second Ring to this level then?”
Yang Zicang sensed his own spiritual state, but he didn’t feel discomfort in the slightest in anyplace where this happens next not really not here ‘H.
“I wonder how large the gap is between each rank.”
If he couldn’t figure it out, he wouldn’t dwell on it. Dare not look around recklessly anymore, Yang Zicang sat back down, picked up a bottle of red wine, and popped off the cap with a corkscrew.
“That hurts.”
“What?”
Yang Zicang froze, looking left and right in confusion—he thought he’d heard something just now.
“Auditory hallucination?” He frowned. There was no other sound.
The young man shook his head, took a glass, and poured out the wine with a gurgling stream.
“I feel so awful. I’m throwing up.”
Yang Zicang’s hand trembled, and he nearly dropped the whole bottle of red wine.
“Transforming into a Demonic Nightmare? No, that’s not a nightmare. This is just a regular wine bottle.”
He had just finished inspecting the bottle in his right hand when another voice came from his left.
“This flavor is not bad. Ooh~ my pivot point is so warm; your hand holding it makes my temperature rise. It’s nice and cozy.”
Slam!
Yang Zicang tossed the wineglass into the basket and waited for over a dozen seconds, but those two items didn’t say another word.
“Did you hear anything?” Yang Zicang looked up and shouted into the carriage.
{Yeah, I hear you talking. You said you threw up, and something about feeling nice and cozy.}
“Ssshh…” Yang Zicang clutched his head with both hands.
After about a day of stopping and starting, the train finally spotted a small patch of chaotic land ahead.
The barren landscape, rising and falling, wavered like converging electric waves left and right, giving it an unreal feel.
{Finally made it! As long as you’re here, maybe I can come directly from now on without having to go through that thing.}
“I’m afraid not.”
The young man tentatively stepped onto the ground, which was both unreal and yet solidly bearing rocks and gravel.
In the distance, a sphere seemingly constructed from various peculiar architectural styles and objects floated at the end of the continent.
This place felt like the end of the world.
Yang Zicang glanced at the train:
“Go back. Thank you for your companionship these past days. In the future, I hope you can help my friends more over there. Also, even though it’s protected, still be careful of bad people.”
{Don’t worry, I’m smarter than you. Come back soon. It’s a bit uncomfortable here.}
With that, Xiao Machao let out a “woo” sound and dove into the void, vanishing like thoughts and disappearing.
Yang Zicang smiled. He turned his head to see several people with faces more delicate than ordinary people appearing ahead of the land.
“Lost Illusion Company welcomes your arrival.”
Those people smiled at him. One person wearing a tight suit and possessing a fairy-like countenance walked forward and extended a hand to Yang Zicang for a handshake.
“Nice to meet you all.”
Yang Zicang put down his hand and looked up. A phantom shadow resembling a bird streaked across the horizon, stirring a swirl of wind through the now-thinned gray fog.
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