Chapter 121: Probing

The short, mustachioed thin man rubbed his bony fingers and chuckled, saying:
“If you are truly Deputy Mayor Zhuyin’s supply convoy leader in these parts, I can invite you to become our premium member.”
“You have a membership system?”
“Of course. We’ll provide you at a low price with any rare intelligence—whether it’s about emerging screens in the Lost Frequency, monsters coming out, the shack camps in the Zones, or new developments about the strong.”
He let out two low chuckles, stretched his neck, and lowered his voice:
“In return, Sir Jiazi, as a premium member, you’ll have to look after the business at our inn—after all, being a premium member makes you a shareholder.”
Yang Zicang thought his mental fortitude was already considerable, but encountering this kind of good fortune usually only seen in stories for the first time still stirred a surge within him—so this is what it’s like to be a top-tier warrior? Indeed, those with real skill are welcomed everywhere.
Just as Boss Zhuang was speaking, a small orb of light appeared beside Yang Zicang’s shoulder, and Boss Zhuang immediately clamped his mouth shut.
Yang Zicang turned his head and said:
“It’s already a new week. I’m not a celebrity, so what are you here for?”
Puff waved one small hand and crossed the other across her chest:
{This place is interesting. Can’t I just pass by?}
“Scram, scram. We’re discussing business here; don’t join in now.”
Yang Zicang had long known from Zhuyin that the perspective hubs used by little reporters to record celebrities could be observed by certain people in town, so he quickly shooed her away.
After flying a short distance, the orb wobbled and turned mid-air, sticking out its tongue at Yang Zicang.
{The big meanie is just putting on airs.}
After the reporter vanished, Boss Zhuang smoothed his beard with his thumb.
“I forgot you used to be something of a celebrity yourself.”
Boss Zhuang turned to look at Luo Bin, who was staring wide-eyed at him.
“Ah, as for your question, well… I lost a bet. If I don’t do what she tasked me with, she’ll find out. That’s all.”
“Automatically deduct timepoints?”
“Of course it’s not—I just held up my end of the wager.”
That a single bet could compel this intelligence station boss to willingly follow through—was the other party really that overpowering, or was he just someone who simply wouldn’t break a promise?
Yang Zicang took the booklet and stood up, saying:
“I see. It seems Boss Zhuang values integrity as much as gold. I’ll give this task a try. But should I bring the missing person’s body to you?”
“As you wish. Just get it out. If you bring it back, I’ll use it to fire up the boiler.”
“How many days has it been? Never mind, no matter how long they’ve been missing, I think you should prepare me a waterproof suit and a coffin. Otherwise, I’ll only cremate the body on-site.”
“He’s lucky—it’s been less than three days since he went missing, and you’ve taken the job. The current outdoor temperature shouldn’t cause you too much trouble. That’s it, I’ll have someone prepare a large wine barrel for you.”
Yang Zicang and Luo Bin emerged from the doorway, carrying a massive beer barrel that towered over their heads. The few people waiting outside immediately came forward politely to lend a hand.
“When are we heading out?” Luo Bin rubbed his hands together eagerly.
The missing guy’s last known location was that A-grade intersection space that collapsed into this place. The deputy township chief hinted there might be a chance to get a psychic ability there—how could I miss that?
Just look at this kid beside me—ever since he got his psychic ability in the Complete Stamp Emblem World, he’s swaggering around like he owns the place. If I got one too, wouldn’t I shoot straight to the top?
Yang Zicang, holding the barrel with one hand, said, “I’m going alone.”
“Come on, bro, I can be helpful. If I happen to gain a psychic ability too, wouldn’t I be an even better right-hand man for you?” Luo Bin humbled himself considerably.
“I want to keep that chance for Xiao Yu.”
“Ah, why are you always thinking about that girl? Do you really think you two are a good match?”
YangZicang turned his head and stared silently at Luo Bin.
“She worries about me dying and risked coming out to invest her lifespan in me. How could I not leave something good for someone like that? After all, I will leave eventually.”
“You… ah, I don’t plan on leaving. How about this: give me this opportunity, and I’ll spend the next six months scouring the entire Land of Lost Frequencies to find a new ability for her. Deal?”
“You said it.”
……
Taking advantage of the dim pre-dawn light, the two boarded the train and arrived at the location marked in the handbook: 280 kilometers southwest of the inn, using it as the origin point.
Without a telekinetic train platform, this journey took almost the entire night.
In the distance, mountains towered in clusters, with some peaks scraping the clouds, clearly a place of rugged terrain.
“Grade A areas are really vast. Stabilizing one in just half a month is something only an exceptionally strong team can do,” Luo Bin remarked with admiration.
At the end of each month, any unsteady alternating projections that had been entered but not yet stabilized converge here in full force.
YangZicang nodded: “Be careful. The monsters in a crimson-moon-level alternate space are exceptionally powerful. Starting from Grade B, monsters continue to be born in stabilized alternate spaces. According to Zhu Yin, there aren’t a few monsters inside.”
“I just think it’d be great if we could haul back a chunk of land, hahaha.”
If they encounter an ordinary lost-frequency projection, digging up some sod and bringing it back isn’t entirely out of the question.
But as for carrying back the mountains here, Yang Zicang was confident that no one here could accomplish it—these were feats only characters from myths could pull off.
It suddenly occurred to him whether, in that old alternate world, there were figures capable of moving mountains and filling seas.
“I’ll go take a look around first; you stay right here and don’t move.”
“Alright, I won’t follow you—don’t put all your eggs in one basket.”
The train turned into wind and vanished, charging toward the distant mountains.
Luo Bin let out a long sigh and sat down on the ground. The contours of these mountains reminded him of Guilin on Earth, and a sentimental warmth welled up in his eyes.
“Alone, a stranger in a strange land, I doubly long for my kin on every festive day. If I remember correctly, in a few months it will be the 130th anniversary of Kong Yiji’s debt.”
He gazed out at the dim and dreary land.
“Still, there are plenty of folks around here too.”
With that, Luo Bin rose, brushed the dust off his pants, and walked toward a forest that looked as if it had been ravaged by a giant beast. At its edge, in the borderland, lay a corpse.
The train’s speed was swift relative to the area of several mountains, traversing this region in just over ten minutes.
Suddenly, the Nightmare Train halted before a mountain peak.
Yang Zicang, gripping the open door, looked up at the sky, where the figure of a translucent man stood, gazing down at him.
{You’re far better than those humans before—at last, one worth looking at has arrived.}
“Humans? Aren’t you human, then?”
{Hmph.}
The thought-form-like man calmly fixed his gaze on Yang Zicang, then lifted his head to look toward the other side.
{More humans have arrived. This place really attracts you, but unfortunately, no one can obtain the benefits they expect here.}
Yang Zicang couldn’t figure out what this was. According to Luo Bin, if a humanoid creature appears in the “surplus world” (or “Excess World”), it means such a creature is extremely dangerous.
{Leave quickly. I’ll pretend you never came this time.}
In the dim light, the figure of the telekinetic man, only visible as a silhouette, turned in the sky and walked back into the shadows of the mountains, disappearing. Yang Zicang’s gaze fell upon the tallest peak near him.
A mountain like this would take him just over twenty minutes to climb if he were his telekinetic-world self; relying purely on physical strength now, it wouldn’t take him more than half an hour.
He vaguely sensed that this mountain was somehow different from the others. This insight came naturally from communicating with the surrounding environment after practicing “Silent Night.”
[Silent Night.]
A wave of qi radiated from his young body, and the environment within a range of six to seven hundred meters emerged naturally. Countless whispers arose, as if the trees, soil, flowers, plants, and moisture itself were communicating with him.
{Save me…}
{Save us…}
Countless voices of terrified emotions appeared in his heart (or mind).
Yang Zicang suddenly looked up. Phantom-like images surged in overwhelmingly. They were distorted, contorted bodies and pale, grimacing illusory figures caught in unbearable pain.
Behind them, a figure seated upon a black stone throne at the mountain’s peak, deific and demonic.
He opened his eyes, where five-pointed stars slowly rotated within, and swept his gaze toward Yang Zicang.
A pressure like a curtain enveloped the void, as if intent on encompassing all.
“Five points?!”
The train roared as it charged toward the edge of the mountain forest.
Yang Zicang felt as if he had entered an immortal’s Cosmic Sleeve, his spiritual world twisting and spinning like a curling scroll of heaven and earth.
[Trajectory Dispatch!]
With a whoosh, the train twisted and transformed into a fierce gale, arcing out of the ever-stretching mountain ranges in a curved trajectory.
The moment they left this area, Yang Zicang felt as if he had burst out of a bubble. Turning his head to look, that world showed no signs of abnormality, and the experience just now felt like a dream.
Little Ma Chao said with slight surprise:
{It’s a phantom zone. Lü Bu has encountered similar intersecting spaces.}
Upon hearing the train’s words, Yang Zicang, now calmer, asked:
“How did Lü Bu deal with it? And what would have happened if we hadn’t left just now?”
{Which of your two questions should I answer first?}
“The second one.”
{I don’t know.}
“……”
Yang Zicang, standing by the car door, was at a loss for words. After a pause, he said:
“Then tell me what exactly a phantom field is.”
{Based on the data they collected, some illusion realms only frighten you; others can make people lost or mistake companions for enemies; certain illusion realms can synchronize mental frequencies, causing people to believe they are truly harmed and thus lose their lives. This kind is also called a psychic field. The Little White Shadow was the third type.}
Actually, you kind of count too…
“Little White Shadow?” Yang Zicang said casually, “What exactly did you guys talk about in the spiritual world?”
{We chatted about everything. He talked most about the route from 23 Xiangyun Road to Xicao Park. It was a spiritual connection.}
Yang Zicang had merely asked casually, but then his expression turned a bit grim.
Wasn’t that the road he often took as a child to his grandmother’s house?
Shaking his head, he looked at the mountain behind him. It didn’t seem particularly tall now, no different from the surroundings. The strangeness he’d sensed earlier was only a presence one could pick up on from close range.
“A five-pointed star, a pentagon? Is it real or fake?”
{If it’s real, the kaleidoscope you broke could defend against psychic attacks. Leave quickly. My time off track is almost up tonight.}
Yang Zicang, of course, knew that the kaleidoscope was an extremely precious treasure, but despite asking around at Headquarters and Hub Town, no one could repair a completely damaged mimic device.