Chapter 150: Answer

Mori looked at the boy:
“Constitutional monarchy, you mean that period in our country’s history that lasted only about a decade…”
Hong Haocheng smiled:
“Exactly as you think. If you’re not careful, everything from the past can flare up again. Though the analogy isn’t quite fitting, the essence remains the same. The calamity this world faces is likewise.
“By the same logic, if our failed plan were to leak out, it would be truly tragic if, after being recorded in the world’s history, it evolved toward an inevitably doomed end. So don’t ask, and I won’t say. Don’t you dare ask—I’m afraid I might not hold back.”
“Alright…”
Mollie felt deflated and overwhelmed.
Just moments ago, he thought his strength had nearly caught up with the first echelon, but now, faced with this sudden appearance, everything he had before seemed insignificant—amounting to nothing.
Hong Haocheng continued writing with his head down, speaking as he wrote:
“Ah, heh heh. In one possibility, Old Yang had already come here and acquired the blood sculpture. But this time, because of our meeting, us two brothers, his entry timing got delayed. Of course, that’s a good thing for me.”
“A parallel universe?”
“No.”
Mollie looked up: “Could it be that, besides Shi Qian, there’s someone even more formidable targeting him?”
“NO…”
Hong Haocheng let out a startled gasp: “Almost forgot, they can monitor these psionic fields too. Hmm, let’s not talk about this. Anyway, just head toward a new trajectory of fate.”
“A trajectory of fate? What exactly is that?”
Hong Haocheng raised the paper in his hand:
“At the end of this story, a boy named Lin Feng exchanged a new world possibility with that being who controls the Void Zero Temple, thus the world destined for destruction opened a new ending.”
Mori glanced at the paper.
“Didn’t you say the story’s ending was botched?”
“Oh, you! Do you think this crappy place can handle such information? Keeping even a few words here cost me my life. If I put all the information in here, this guy’s psychokinesis field would explode. And to stuff it all in, you’d be the first to perish, soul and body.”
“Then… alright.”
Mori fell silent, thinking that not even a complete record of one person’s deeds could be accommodated here, yet this guy had the nerve to write stories of two people.
“So whose is the other story?”
Hong Haocheng clearly had no intention of revealing who the other story’s protagonist was, just sighing with an occasional ‘aiyah.’
The boy scribbled furiously, feeling the nib of his pen about to spark flames:
“If I were you, I’d take this chance to cultivate. Remember, a thousand or two thousand years here is only a little over a day in the outside world. Go on, get out! Oh, by the way, tell them to get that statue done properly. The guy up there will face a lot fewer troubles at the start. Everywhere has statues, but those worth having are held by crafty types.”
Mori was speechless, the information surfacing in his mind telling him he could leave freely.
After all, there was no telling how long he would have to write this stuff here, and Mori didn’t want any more exchanges with whatever magical pattern manifested in his mind. So he got up and prepared to leave.
“Oh, by the way.”
The boy called out to stop Mori: “To avoid changing too much of the future at the same point in time, don’t tell him about what happened here. Otherwise, you know what spacetime backlash means.”
Mori nodded silently, then directly left this sub-ether field, reappearing in the bedroom from before.
“I’ve actually been asleep for this long. To these people in this world, I am… the Sleeping King?”
Mori rubbed his chin.
In the sub-ether space. With Mori’s departure, Hong Haocheng fell quiet, the scratch of paper and pen sounding softly. After who knew how many days, he looked up.
These two books were not being written as quickly as he had imagined. The more critical the information point, the more energy it consumed.
“Haocheng,” he muttered. “You should be coming over soon, right?”
With a raise of the boy’s hand, countless trajectories resembling maps emerged around this space. Yet they were not flat—rather, they formed the silhouettes of numerous human figures.
Traces of light constantly wandered along the strands outlining these human silhouettes. Some moved quickly, others slowly; some were intricate, some simple.
Among them, a silhouette formed by one strand closely resembled Mori.
Hong Haocheng waved his hand, and the trajectory similar to Mori appeared in his grasp, unfurling to become a map with single sweeping lines.
This map featured regions resembling Earth’s Americas and Asia, but most of the terrain belonged to areas not part of the human world.
After some thought, the boy pressed this map into the last page of the book and wrote on it:
—Lin Feng gave that one opportunity to ask a question to the father of Odd Eaves Nine Blessings, thinking that this man, who had lost someone dear to him, needed the answer to a certain question more than himself.
—As an all-knowing entity, He must surely know about methods of resurrection. As for the way back to Earth, clues will surely surface during the journey ahead.
—After all, opportunities to seek counsel from Mr. Mọbańu Jumblane will come again, but this chance to question the Lord of Void Zero will likely be a once-in-a-lifetime occurrence.
“Yang Zicang, Moli’s resurrected answer is here.”
He gently patted the book’s pages.
……
Zuo Feixian was meditating inside the tent, practicing the Silent Night style.
The image of that stone appeared in his mind.
{Come to me.}
He suddenly opened his eyes and pondered doubtfully for a while.
“Here it comes again. Forget it—you can’t fully trust a monster.”
Having said that, he happily closed his eyes again and continued cultivating the energy trajectories of the secret technique within his body. Suddenly, he snapped his eyes open to look at the iron alarm clock beside him.
“Damn, it’s already time to switch shifts with that kid Wang Chong.”
Zuo Feixian stood up, stretched, and went out to relieve Wang Chong, who was patrolling the market, so he could rest.
At night, Yang Zicang continued inscribing magical runes on the wall.
Since the arduous defeat of the vine monster in the mountains, the peril posed by powerful creatures in this fallen, frequency-lost region had been completely lifted. Rather than losing its vitality, the market had actually attracted many ordinary people now that the phantoms were gone. This rekindled the spirits of Yuanlong and others, who had grown somewhat disheartened.
Thus, Yang Zicang had spent the past two days enduring pain, working overtime to carve the auto-crafting shed magical patterns.
Suddenly, a folded line shot toward him. After sensing the sender, Yang Zicang connected with slight hesitation.
“Deputy Town Head, why aren’t you resting so late?”
{Someone has been recruited into the Lost Illusion Company.}
Yang Zicang’s heart immediately tightened.
“Who?”
{Zorro.}
Hearing this name, Yang Zicang involuntarily let out a breath of relief.
The two fell silent for a few seconds, then Yang Zicang laughed: “Seems my assistant is quite popular.”
{Perhaps it’s because those with bad luck are already blessed.}
The connection was severed. Yang Zicang stood up and relaxed by shaking his hands and feet—this time, he was genuinely relieved.
Just as he resumed lifting his carving tool, a figure outline appeared beside him.
“Wuying.” Yang Zicang’s eyes sharpened. “Still here, huh? What, planning to tempt me with that treasure again? Didn’t you say you wouldn’t sell anymore?”
“Heh, no deal but no bad blood—don’t make me sound awful.”
The young man who had appeared reached into a bamboo basket by Yang Zicang’s feet, picked up a piece of emerald magical essence crystal, and tossed it in his hand.
He turned his head and said, “No one in our team will cause trouble anymore from now on. Pretty good.”
Yang Zicang stared into his smiling eyes and asked:
“You already know?”
“After all, they’re our team’s old rival. Many times that masked man and that damn motorcycle ruined things for us. That guy not showing up in the Frequency-Lost Land from now on is a huge blessing for us.”
In the Frequency-Lost Land, stories of competition and clashes between Zorro and Shi Qian have been told since ancient times.
Yang Zicang thought for a moment, then a flash of insight struck him, and his heart beat slightly.
“You all…”
Shi Qian’s lips curved slightly upward.
He set down the magical crystal, shook the cloth pouch containing the square object in his hand, and said:
“I thought it over. This thing is useful, but hoarding treasures is like biting off more than one can chew—it doesn’t suit me. So, the same price as before. If you want it, remember to reach out to me. We can have a drink together some other time. See you.”
With that, Shadowless disappeared on the spot.
YangZicang chuckled lightly as well; was this the unspoken understanding among them all?
Everyone chosen by Zorro as an assistant was helping to fulfill his journey in their own way… towards entering that place.
……
After leading the large group back to the shelter from the Lost Frequency Land, Yang Zicang prepared Zuo Feixian and Fan Xiuyun to start building the Lost Engine. Although Zorro had successfully entered Lost Illusion Company, it didn’t mean his matters in the Lost Frequency Land were over.
The boisterous bunch quickly built a large log cabin and had a celebration inside.
At the banquet, although Yang Zicang appeared cheerful, there was a faint unease in his heart. Because the Single-Frequency Inn had been confirmed destroyed, and apart from the tracks that disappeared a few hundred meters away, no other information about the perpetrator had been found.
“We must also make a good name for ourselves at the Autumn Signing Conference,” Zuo Feixian said with great enthusiasm.
“The next time we come across something as good as selling incense pills, who knows how many years it will take. Thanks to Brother Yang, each of us got a good share of the chronology this time.”
“Such a pity that the time was a bit short. But with those monsters lurking around, it’s good to get rid of them sooner.”
Everyone beamed with joy, and Yang Zicang responded with a dry chuckle or two.
Zuo Feixian stood up and stretched, twisting his body left and right, when suddenly his gaze froze.
He stared at the small woods outside the door and whispered to the person beside him:
“Xiuyun, who moved that stone over there?”
Fan Xiuyun at the table turned to look at the small woods; a stone with a faint human-shaped relief lay under a tree.
“Oh, that? It was brought here the day before yesterday by a man named Li Shangxiang. He also bought a few trees. He said he was a friend of Brother Yang, and I thought he looked a bit familiar, so I let him buy them.”
Zuo Feixian walked over and looked at it for a while, then relaxed—it wasn’t his stone.
However, wherever there was a stone, it ultimately became a medium-to-large shed area. This was a good omen, though it was unclear whether the thing in question was indeed that kind of stone.
After dividing the proceeds, Shed Master Song and Ning Yang played here for half a day before leaving. On their end, Yang Zicang had already allocated thirty to forty thousand timings to each of their two teams and considered them long-term strategic partners of Grand Party A.
As for himself… Yang Zicang let out a sigh. After all this hard work, he hadn’t earned as much as they imagined, with only about forty to fifty thousand left.
“Looks like I’ll have to keep relying on Mo Li and Boppoli’s petty cash fund…”