“No, child, they are all already dead.”
Han Mingxiao said approvingly:
“Their souls have long since dissipated; those are merely the psychic wavebands they emitted. It’s like those electronic creations in your world—once the wavebands they radiate out into the universe, they become independent. If you’re fast enough, you could witness the first television signal ever sent by humans from a hundred light-years away.”
He crouched down and stuffed the hazy mass of light in his hand toward Yang Zicang’s chest.
Then both of them looked up to the side.
They didn’t know why their movements were so synchronized.
Beside them was a deep, shadowy figure covered in dilapidated wings, its face bearing an ancient, artistic countenance.
Its face seemed to be a product of metal and rubble mixed together.
“It’s you.”
Yang Zicang remembered it. When he had last seen this figure, he thought it was just a mask. But now, standing here, its whole being was hollow like a tattered, ragged monster, shrouded in broken wings.
Han Mingxiao was stunned for a moment. Looking up at this mask-like face, he saw that behind it was nothing! His expression changed dramatically.
“Sir, you appear here without making a sound… May I ask what brings you here?”
The newcomer remained silent, its gaze slowly shifting with the tilt of Han Mingxiao’s head, never breaking eye contact.
“Who the hell are you!”
The usually calm and gentle Han Mingxiao began to panic. He leaped backward, instantly covering tens of meters.
“How did you get in!”
{You, are, defiling, this place.}
Yet that figure moved in parallel with him, maintaining the same distance without moving an inch.
“No, this is just my Spirit World!”
Han Mingxiao was genuinely shocked. His psionic field hadn’t even unfolded, and yet someone had silently entered the depths of his spiritual ocean. He dared not imagine how terrifying the opponent’s strength must be.
{I crossed the boundless mist, time and again, returning to my homeland.}
Han Mingxiao’s pupils trembled and widened.
“You…”
His figure darted away, only to find himself standing beside Yang Zicang again.
Back to the starting point!
It felt like this wasn’t his own Spirit World, but the other’s. He cried out in terror:
“This is just the final image of the world! The existence of Lost Illusion Company only solidified the last moment of that land!”
{I know.}
That figure stood silently, gazing at the person before them.
Cold sweat soaked Han Mingxiao’s back.
He swallowed nervously.
“Then… why are you here?”
Yang Zicang watched them with a pained expression.
The thing half-buried in his chest was fiercely influencing his emotions, with countless whispers and voices clawing at his ears and heart, while the maddening murmurs in his mind clashed with the howling wind in the trees.
This figure turned its face to look down.
{Your choice is excellent.}
Yang Zicang felt somewhat dazed. Following his innermost curiosity, he subconsciously asked, “Why do you appear?”
Its voice carried a hint of regret.
{Because, at this land’s final moment, I was not present.}
Its feathers rustled without wind, and a bird-like claw extended from beneath it, pointing at Yang Zicang’s chest.
Five points of light in different colors descended. They converged on the object, forming a colored membrane that wrapped around it. The enveloped “Vagrant Uprising” shrank smaller and smaller, transforming into an intricate spiritual imprint similar to a “Celtic knot,” merging into Yang Zicang’s body.
Yang Zicang’s mind quickly settled, and even grew significantly.
After finishing this, it turned its gaze to the psychokinetic field.
Time seemed to begin flowing.
“What are you going to do?”
{Merely continue the image of the past.}
Han Mingxiao said despairingly, “No, can’t do this…”
Yang Zicang’s restored senses felt a dense aura of death erupt from a certain point.
An unmatched force stirred and rumbled deep within the earth.
A pillar of light, more nothingness than death itself, surged forth and expanded to encompass everything.
……
Only after a full day did Yang Zicang regain consciousness.
When he opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was an unfamiliar woman’s face, as pure and bright as moonlight, yet strikingly spirited.
“I am Huan Bao’er. You can call me Sister Huan,” said the delicately featured woman before him with a smile.
“Where am I…”
In the room, Yang Zicang saw several outstanding figures standing around the woman before him, including Zorro and Jiaoma, as well as Team Leader Fu and Wang Dingshan.
“You’re really lucky to be alive; even that didn’t kill you.”
Yang Zicang felt his mind gradually calming down.
“Han Mingxiao… that person…”
Huan Bao’er interrupted: “He’s dead. Don’t worry, everything has been mostly dealt with. The only question is, what happened inside your group?”
These people looked at Yang Zicang with curiosity, caution, and suspicion, and the director’s face also showed a faint scrutiny.
“He wanted me to take him into the world of the Complete Stamp Emblem. When I refused, he threatened to control my consciousness, and then a strange person appeared.”
“A strange person?” The others grew even more suspicious. Han Mingxiao, who had lost consciousness, was theoretically someone whose strength was not inferior even to the director’s.
As he spoke, Yang Zicang propped himself up. The model on his chest flickered as he struggled to manifest a spiritual imprint, surrounded by five slowly rotating multicolored light spots, like a seal.
“Such a fluctuation of spiritual power.”
The several figures around, slender like immortals, instantly widened their eyes.
“This looks like…”
Huan Bao’er immediately raised her hand to stop them from speaking. She stared at Yang Zicang and said:
“Who made this seal?”
“The strange person,” Yang Zicang said. “They sealed this imprint and incidentally destroyed that person’s spiritual field.”
At that moment, everyone in the room changed complexion.
“What did that being look like?”
“He… had a mask-like metal face, was covered in feathers, and his body seemed hollow. He showed up because, well, it seems like Han Mingxiao copied the terrain here but engaged in bad deeds on it, defiling this land.”
“So it was Mr. Black Stork.”
After exchanging glances, the surrounding people’s initial scrutiny and suspicion toward Yang Zicang completely vanished.
Fu Qiyong laughed, “I’ve been saying my squad member wouldn’t be some kind of spy hiding his real strength with ulterior motives.”
Jiaoma cast a sidelong, meaningful glance at Fu Qiyong. When the man caught her eye, he let out a fake cough. “Ahem, right—he’s our squad member.”
Huan Bao’er smiled slightly.
“Being able to get Mr. Black Stork to act means Zicang is already someone he acknowledges.”
She let out a relaxed sigh, put her hands on her hips, and said to Yang Zicang in a cordial tone:
“In that case, I suppose my plan to give you an early Favorable Review as an ‘Elite Employee’ wasn’t overly arbitrary. Come on, tell us all the details.”
An early Favorable Review? Yang Zicang finally let out most of the worry in his heart.
As he recounted the events in detail, the room’s occupants were visibly shaken when they heard how that entity had obliterated a deeply concealed powerhouse with such plain, unassuming methods.
“After the pillar of light rose, I didn’t know anything else.”
The room was silent. Yang Zicang turned his head and saw admiration and appreciation in everyone’s gaze toward him.
Wang Dingshan raised both thumbs in a gesture of approval.
Huan Bao’er’s expression shifted slightly, then her eyes softened, and she looked at Yang Zicang with full recognition.
“No wonder—he tried to use a duplicate of the ‘Rebellion in Confusion’ psychic body to control you into activating the post emblem.”
She tossed the pendant she was holding to him.
“This is the second pendant taken from your psychic body. The Councilor told us it’s called a ‘Mind Sync’ device, an alchemical creation born from the fusion of the two bloodlines, ‘Mind Corrosion’ and ‘Dim Light.’”
“Mind Corrosion and Dim Light?”
Yang Zicang thought back to the bloodline names he had learned earlier. Before he could dwell on it, the director-general continued speaking:
“It was originally used for secret meeting communication. However, when one party’s mental strength far surpasses others, it can forcibly pull the other into its own mental field without consent. I’ve already adjusted the frequencies on these pendants. I’ll keep this one, and you can have the rest.”
With that, Huan Bao’er stood up and left with several officers.
Fu Qiyong approached and said, “Sigh, hard to say whether you’re unlucky or lucky. Just make sure you get some good rest these few days.”
Now that the others were gone, Wang Dingshan and Yu Yushan had a chance to gather around the bedside. After going through a life-and-death race together, though they hadn’t known each other long, they had already formed a deep bond.
“What happened to your hand?”
Yang Zicang noticed the ring of teeth marks on Wang Dingshan’s hand.
Qiong An turned her head away, whistling casually.
Feng Ming laughed, saying, “Someone bit him for missing out on an extra 200,000 Virtual Zero Sequences.”
“Huh?” Yang Zicang froze for a moment, then burst into laughter. “I didn’t expect Lele to be that accurate, huh.”
A muffled voice came from inside Wang Dingshan’s clothing pocket.
(Of course, my lottery tickets are genuine.)
Wang Dingshan and the others exchanged information with Yang Zicang. Learning about what had happened later, Yang Zicang marveled at how Lost Illusion Company had spared no effort to save him—after all, the battle had only lasted a very short time.
It wasn’t until everyone else had left that Jiaoma and Zorro walked over.
Zorro glanced at Jiaoma and said, “You go first?”
“Hmph! I’m not about to sneak off like—” She started to say something angry, but abruptly stomped her foot, turned around, yanked the door open, and stormed out in a huff.
Zorro shrugged, pulled over a chair, and sat down with a lingering sense of fear, saying:
“That Han Mingxiao has already come looking for me twice in the archives library, asking me to give you the pendant. I refused both times.”
Meeting Yang Zicang’s gaze, he recounted his two encounters with Han Mingxiao, and only then did Yang Zicang realize that things weren’t so simple. It seemed that ever since he first entered this place, the man had taken notice of him. But what could be hidden in that psionic field that would make those who had been laying low in the company for so long willing to expose themselves just to get in?
Yang Zicang looked up at Zorro and sincerely said, “Thank you for being vigilant; otherwise, I might have fallen into the trap.”
The person in front of him was truly concerned about his well-being. Even in a place as universally recognized as safe as the Lost Illusion Company, his vigilance never waned—this was certainly something worth learning from.
“By the way, Jiaoma also has two pendants on her,” Zorro said with a sly grin. “Be careful when you sleep; that young lady’s mental power is much stronger than yours.”
He took out a photograph, which depicted the elusive “Sub-Ether Channel” of the illusionary lost Thought Engine.
“In recognition of your outstanding contribution to catching the company rat, this is for you. It grants direct access to ‘City 11.’”
“That again. Seems like this lost Thought Engine is rather special.”
Yang Zicang’s gaze fixed on Zorro, who responded with a knowing smile.
He reached out and took the photograph.
[Validity period: 30 days from the activation date.]
Then, Zorro pulled out another photograph.
“Thanks to you, I’ve also become an elite employee.”
Leave a Reply