Yan Budu died tragically. The fish demon eye on the smoking pipe fell into the grass, and the heart sank into darkness.
Then the darkness shattered, and the ground disappeared beneath the two.
The small magic circle ceased to operate, and the desolate graves on the hillside vanished. The scenery in front changed from Zongwu Mountain to Huilian Mountain, with rolling clouds and mist below and an abyss spanning thousands of feet.
The inner demons returned to their place, and the human head lamp lit up, revealing the white thorns once again.
The transparent stone platform shook, on the verge of collapse. Yin Ci borrowed the last bit of strength, clutching Shi Jingzhi, and rolled back to the edge of the cliff. Shi Jingzhi stared blankly into the void, as if desperately trying to recall something.
This time, when the two landed, Yin Ci didn’t treat Shi Jingzhi as a cushion. He intentionally turned his body to the side, and his back hit the stone surface, causing his head to buzz.
On Zongwu Mountain, Yan Budu left behind numerous crucial clues.
For example, he did indeed hide the Shirou; for example, even with countless maps, they still needed a “key”; and furthermore, Yan Budu really had contact with immortals—after all, he was a generational master and wouldn’t mistake a mortal who had drunk immortal wine for an immortal.
But at this moment, Yin Ci couldn’t delve into those clues.
The spider mole the size of a copper coin on Yan Budu’s chest was dark green, identical to the one Shi Jingzhi had.
Both of them were extraordinarily talented, stubborn and ambitious, and they were both afflicted with a rare and consistent disease that was rarely seen in the world. Could this be a coincidence?
And Yin Ci had also seen Yan Budu’s appearance when he was “determined”.
Over twenty years ago, Kushan had gathered in different valleys. Before his Little Mute died, he too had black veins all over his body, with black blood oozing from his mouth and nose, and a persistent high fever. Even a gentle touch would elicit a heart-wrenching scream.
[When I was a child, I had a high fever once, and this thing appeared afterward.]
…Could all of this be a coincidence?
Impossible.
Yin Ci lay at the edge of the cliff, not getting up immediately, nor allowing Shi Jingzhi to rise. He wrapped one arm around Shi Jingzhi’s waist, firmly imprisoning him against his own body.
Shi Jingzhi stared blankly at Yin Ci with an expression that was still dazed and absent-minded.
The shadow hand moved, futilely grasping the white thorns. The thorns, full of sharp spikes, caused piercing pain to assault him from all directions, but Yin Ci had no intention of letting go.
The two spent a month together in their minds, but only a few sticks of incense had passed externally. The sun hadn’t moved much from its position, the sky was clear, the breeze was chilly, and everything remained the same.
Yin Ci coldly observed Kongshi passing away and Yan Budu’s self-destruction. Having witnessed all the myriad phenomena of the world, he thought he had long grown accustomed to being detached from worldly matters. But now, unexpectedly struck by his own past, his throat suddenly felt sour, choking back countless words.
It turned out that his “human heart” hadn’t had a chance to completely rot away.
Indeed, he had considered it before. If his Little Mute had survived, he would be this old. Who could have imagined that his casual thought would now become a reality—a strange illness as the catalyst, fate as the thread, as if he had captured the lingering soul of twenty-four years ago.
However, there were still several doubts. The Little Mute had seen his face, but Shi Jingzhi didn’t recognize him. Yin Ci had witnessed the Little Mute’s bones being devoured, yet Shi Jingzhi stood there unscathed. Yin Ci knew he wouldn’t be easily deceived, and Shi Jingzhi’s mysterious origins and shattered humanity indicated that someone had deliberately orchestrated this.
What exactly did Yan Budu mean by “fixed desire”? And whose shadow lurked behind this “strange illness”?
Yin Ci closed his eyes for a moment, and when he spoke again, his tone returned to its usual state. He painstakingly confirmed the final question—
“You said you had a high fever at the age of three and then developed this strange mole. How much do you remember about the time of the fever?”
Shi Jingzhi frowned. “Not much. I even forgot what happened before the fever. I only know about the fever itself from what others told me.”
Without needing any prompting from Yin Ci, Shi Jingzhi continued on his own.
“Now that I think about it, the symptoms are quite similar to those of Yan Budu… But I’ve never heard of this ‘fixed desire’, and he definitely knows more about this condition than I do.”
Unfortunately, Yan Budu had already been buried in the mountains, and his bones were probably nowhere to be found now.
Shi Jingzhi had likely also thought of this point. Although he was excited by the new clues, he remained calm and didn’t become ecstatic.
“A’Ci, we’re safe now. Let go of me first.” Shi Jingzhi patted Yin Ci’s arm.
But Yin Ci didn’t release his grip.
Even if the clues on Yan Budu’s side had been severed, it didn’t matter. Even if Shi Jingzhi couldn’t remember the past, it didn’t matter.
The person was already by his side, and he would find a way to uncover the truth of that year. Yin Ci’s hand clutched the back of Shi Jingzhi’s head, his fingers deeply buried in the black hair, holding the other person tightly against his chest.
He lay there between heaven and earth, gazing directly at the sky.
To him, the Little Mute wasn’t a game to pass the time. That child was more like a nail, anchoring the last trace of his soul in the mortal realm. Although Yin Ci didn’t consider “living like this” a fortunate event, it was still far better than being deeply engulfed in madness and immersed in killing and calamity.
He had once made an unfulfilled promise to the Little Mute, and now he had a chance for redemption.
In the chaotic mortal world, in the midst of darkness, he once again touched a fragment of destiny. His long-dormant heart contracted, and a dull pain emerged.
Back then, the innocent child could never have had the intention of playing tricks on him. So, no matter who was behind this matter, daring to deceive and snatch someone from him through deceitful means would surely come at a cost.
If it was a mortal, they would be killed. If it was an immortal, he would make sure that immortal fell into the mortal realm.
As he was pressed into Yin Ci’s embrace, Shi Jingzhi finally noticed that something was wrong with Yin Ci. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I’m thinking about Shizun’s illness,” Yin Ci replied, still gazing at the sky.
“We can talk about that later. If you’re tired, rest here. I need to go check on Su Si and Yan Qing… A’Ci?”
“Yes,” Yin Ci didn’t release his embrace. “With the two of us working together and having clues in hand, we will definitely be able to uncover the mystery behind this strange illness.”
After speaking, Yin Ci lowered his head and lightly brushed his lips against Shi Jingzhi’s forehead. His gaze passed through the person in front of him and looked at the figure from twenty years ago.
[Little Mute, even though you can’t express your wishes, This Seat* promise you a worry-free life and longevity of a hundred years.]
*[Ben zuo] (本座) Term when referring to oneself in a formal and authoritative manner, often used by individuals in positions of power or high authority.
Yin Ci’s lips curled into a smile.
Just as Shi Jingzhi was thinking Yin Ci truly lived up to the title of “the immortal who sends people off for their last journey”—
“…Shi Jingzhi, I promise you a worry-free life and longevity of a hundred years.”
Even if he had to defy destiny once again—he not only wanted him to live a few more years, he wanted him to have a peaceful and natural end.
Shi Jingzhi gasped and pressed his temple.
At the moment he heard those words, his mind was filled with falling red leaves and piercing pain. It seemed like something wanted to break free, but couldn’t find a way, causing his head to ache.
So he could only grin and play it off. “Good disciple, you don’t need to promise me a hundred years of longevity. Ninety-nine is enough.”
Yin Ci’s gaze became complex, and he smiled as he released him. “That works too.”
An hour and a half passed.
The master and disciple treated the injured servants. Their role as healers emerged, finally waking up the two unconscious individuals buried in the snow.
Yan Qing and Su Si’s inner demons hadn’t disappeared, but they had at least returned to normal. However, their wounds were real, adding to the dire situation of the Kushan Sect.
Su Si continued to touch his wounds and grumble. As for Yan Qing, when he woke up and saw the pale thorns all around, he thought he was still dreaming. He simply closed his eyes, turned over, and continued to pretend to be unconscious.
When Shi Jingzhi saw those eerie eyes, his emotions became complicated.
After a while, Shi Jingzhi cleared his throat and spoke with an extremely stern tone. “Yan Qing, if you don’t get up now, I’ll deduct your monthly allowance.”
Yan Qing instantly sat up in shock, looking even more upright than Shi Jingzhi’s flagpole.
As everyone woke up, Shi Jingzhi crossed his arms and put on a show of being self-important. “A’Ci and I have already defeated the Lords of Hatred and Ignorance, so you don’t need to worry anymore. However, the Buddha Heart Formation is quite troublesome. Once you’ve rested well, we should enter the Jianchen Temple as soon as possible to catch our breath.”
Yan Qing nodded obediently, treating Su Si as usual, as if the inner demon ordeal had never happened. Su Si, on the other hand, scratched his cheek and occasionally glanced at Yan Qing, his face turning red.
In the end, his vigilance defeated the idea of “being honest for a while,” and he asked with a serious tone, “Sect Master, what exactly is all this on the ground? Can you please explain?”
Shi Jingzhi appeared amiable and replied without hesitation, “They are the remnants left behind by the Lord of Hatred and the Lord of Ignorance.”
Yin Ci was momentarily stunned but couldn’t help bursting into laughter. He momentarily forgot himself and only thought about the Little Mute. He almost forgot about this person’s fox fur.
How wonderful, he couldn’t help but think.
Although Shi Jingzhi was broken, he didn’t sink into gloom or become reclusive. That vitality remained the same as before, and Yin Ci could still hold his hand, catching a glimpse of that glimmer of light.
There was still time for everything.
The sun gradually set, and the night passed without incident.
The spells left behind by Yan Budu had ceased, and apart from their own inner demons, there was nothing else blocking their path. The mountain road stretched ahead, and Shi Jingzhi took the opportunity to briefly explain the events of the mind realm, providing an account for the purpose of this journey.
The surroundings were calm and peaceful, and his single disciple wasn’t missing, so Sect Master Shi was filled with gratification. However, compared to before, his disciple had undergone some subtle changes—
Since they left the small magic formation, Shi Jingzhi couldn’t help but feel that Yin Ci’s gaze towards him was a little off. The Buddha Heart Formation had once again taken effect, and his disciple’s inner demon hadn’t moved, yet his eyes didn’t darken anymore.
But whenever they set off, Yin Ci would still naturally grab his wrist and hold it neither lightly nor heavily. From this perspective, the “disciple regaining his sight” seemed like his own illusion once again.
However, this feeling was comforting, and Shi Jingzhi didn’t want to ask about it. He allowed Yin Ci to lead him.
Yan Qing hadn’t experienced the mind realm for that month, so he was still accustomed to the current situation. Supporting Su Si, who had a snake tail, he couldn’t help but feel something was amiss. “Since we have clues, why do we still need to go up the mountain?”
“Although A’Ci and I saw the cave and desolate graves, Zongwu Mountain is too vast to search inch by inch.”
Shi Jingzhi spoke cheerfully.
“Venerable Kongshi of the Jianchen Temple was an eminent monk. Over the years, the temple has never given up on searching for his remains. When it comes to the location where Yan Budu and Venerable Kongshi had their final battle, no one knows better than the Jianchen Temple.”
“That’s right,” Yin Ci added, “And there’s something I’m particularly interested in—Yan Budu took away Venerable Kongshi’s sword but didn’t bring it back to the tomb. Yan Budu would never do useless things…”
“…That stone sword probably has some secrets as well. Besides, he arranged the clues at the entrance of the Jianchen Temple. It feels like something is missing if we just get the clues and turn back halfway.”
Shi Jingzhi smiled and continued the conversation.
“When it comes to Yan Budu, even the slightest clue is worth a try.”
Upon hearing this, Su Si’s movement paused. He looked at Shi Jingzhi’s back, and his face showed a pensive expression.
“A’Si?” Yan Qing, who was pulling him up the steps, was the first to sense that something was off.
“I was lost in thought for a moment.” Su Si furrowed his brows slightly. “Let’s go. We should go to the Jianchen Temple first… Don’t worry, I won’t hide anything from you anymore.”
The author has something to say:
Demonic Lord Yin: I was just pretending when I said I was blind.
The monk’s stone sword had returned to its original position. Kongshi sat upright in front of the bonfire, using an iron bowl to simmer something. Just like the past dozens of days, the cave was dim, filled with the light of the fire, and at a fixed time, the person always remained in a fixed position.
The difference this time was that a pleasant fragrance wafted in the cave.
After being domineering and arrogant for so many years, Yan Budu had tasted all sorts of miraculous medicines and strange herbs in the world. He instantly recognized the smell of this thing—
“Ice peak snake lotus… Truly worthy of an eminent monk. Heaven has given its blessing that even such a legendary object can be found.”
This thing was extremely rare, growing in the deep mountains during severe winter. It could be called a holy medicine for treating internal injuries. Zongwu Mountain wasn’t a place of great vitality, yet it could produce such a thing thanks to the ancient formation.
However, the main reason why the ice peak snake lotus was rare wasn’t the harsh growing conditions or the scarcity in quantity, but the lotus snake that accompanied it.
As miraculous as the effects of the ice peak snake lotus were, the lotus snake was equally poisonous. They liked to gather in groups with a number equal to the petals of the ice peak snake lotus, ranging from tens to dozens. The snowy mountain was already dazzling, and these strange snakes were transparent all over and extremely fast, making them quite formidable.
Not to mention the monk who was content and desired little, even if Yan Budu had the opportunity to see the ice peak snake lotus, he might not be willing to take it.
However, no matter how difficult the situation, it seemed that nothing could change the expression on Kongshi’s face. He casually took the legendary object and boiled it with his expression unchanged, as if it were just a strangely shaped mushroom.
Today was obviously the day when they became enemies.
“You’re quite something, Kongshi, being able to escape from the lotus snakes. It seems that I can have a good fight in tomorrow’s battle…” Yan Budu struggled to catch his breath, still not letting up on his taunting.
Whether it was because he was tired of leaning against the wall or not, Yan Budu sat back in front of the chessboard. With one hand supporting his body, even with a face full of illness, he still had a hint of elegance.
Yan Budu suddenly collapsed in the afternoon, leaving the chessboard with a half-finished game. He didn’t scatter the chess pieces, but just leaned against them lightly.
Kongshi finished brewing the medicinal soup and walked over calmly. He sat in front of Yan Budu, placed the stone spoon in the bowl, and handed it to Yan Budu. “Please use it, Patron.”
“Venerable, previously when I was weak, you fed me spoonful by spoonful… Why is it that even the lotus snakes have moved for me, but now there’s this distance between us?”
Kongshi’s voice was gentle as if his words carried a light breeze and faint clouds. “Amitabha, I have other matters to attend to. Patron lacks diligence in nurturing the body, but the distinction between light and heavy can still be made.”
Yan Budu was already accustomed to the monk’s evasive response. He snorted, picked up the iron bowl, and drank the medicinal soup in one gulp.
The medicinal soup had been cooled with snow, making the temperature just right. As the warm medicine entered his body, a surge of heat spread throughout his limbs and bones. Yan Budu’s bloodshot eyes relaxed, and his furrowed brow showed a hint of relief.
Despite his arrogance, Yan Budu wouldn’t waste time for nothing. He immediately sat on the straw cushion in front of the chessboard to adjust and heal his injuries.
This time, Kongshi didn’t help him like before.
Kongshi continued to sit on the other side of the chessboard with his hands clasped together as he silently recited sutras.
After half an hour passed, Yan Budu coughed up a mouthful of blood again. The strange blood threads seemed to gather, slowly receding from his limbs. His face still lacked color, but at least his body no longer trembled and convulsed.
Only then did Yan Budu breathe a sigh of relief and turn his gaze towards the opposite side, only to freeze in astonishment.
The monk’s hands had always been beautiful, with slender fingers and distinct joints. Previously, when he clasped his hands together in prayer, they were truly pleasing to the eye.
But now, they didn’t look as appealing.
Kongshi’s hands were completely exposed from his sleeves. The edge of his left palm had two small, pitch-black holes—the whole left hand, along with the arm, had swollen and turned bluish black with twisted veins.
A snake bite wound.
Yan Budu quietly observed the wound for a while. His face gradually transformed from a relaxed expression to a twisted smile, then into unrestrained laughter.
He seemed to have encountered the most amusing thing in the world, laughing so hard that he coughed repeatedly, struggling for breath.
“Venerable, is this the cycle of fate? Is this karmic retribution? Why do I feel like it’s a stroke of luck for me?”
The venom of the lotus snake was extremely toxic, and once bitten, even severing the limbs would be useless. Kongshi immediately administered treatment and possessed profound skills to suppress the snake’s poison with inner force, which allowed him to survive until now.
Unfortunately, delay could only be delayed.
With his profound inner force and close coordination with Kongshi’s true qi, there was a slight possibility of purging the snake’s venom and saving his life.
But within the vast Zongwu Mountain, extending for hundreds of miles, only the two of them were present. The only one who could save Kongshi was Yan Budu himself.
Could there be a more marvelous situation than this?
“Baldy, do you know what I’m thinking?” Yan Budu asked.
Kongshi ceased his recitation, calmly looked at Yan Budu, and replied, “Patron is thinking about how to tempt this humble monk with greed, hatred, and ignorance.”
“Correct. Since I have nothing better to do, I will explain it to you in detail.”
Yan Budu’s face was adorned with an extremely bright smile; the smile, blending with the blood vessels all over his body, sent a chilling sensation to anyone who saw him.
“I have figured out your precious and formidable Nightmare Breaking technique long ago. I can break the formation and leave the mountain on my own… I was considering whether to strike from behind. But this level of ‘betrayal’ wouldn’t catch Venerable’s attention.”
“Then I thought, why not pretend to be defeated by you and let you leave the mountain. My disciples have been waiting outside, ready to poison you when the opportunity arises. I could bring you back to our sect and slowly reeducate you. But Venerable has a strong character and probably won’t yield easily. If, by any chance, I accidentally kill Venerable, wouldn’t that be a loss?”
“Finally, I thought, why not go with you to the Jianchen Temple and then risk my life to kill the leader, that old bald donkey, in front of you? That would surely change your expression, wouldn’t it?”
“…Who would have thought that the plans of men are no match for those of the heavens. The arrangements of the heavens are even more intriguing than what I had imagined.”
Kongshi remained motionless as a mountain. “Patron has the strength to speak so many words. The reputation of the ice peak snake lotus is well-deserved.”
“Venerable, are you truly foolish or pretending to be foolish? Now, you’re not merely feeding yourself to the tiger, but actually returning it to the mountain.”
As the potency of the medicine increased, Yan Budu’s profound skills allowed his blood-red eyes to shine like ghostly flames. He reached out his hands, cupping Kongshi’s cheeks, forcing him to make eye contact.
“The head of the Jianchen Temple, sacrificing yourself to save me—truly an audacious move. Come, look at me closely—this talk of karmic retribution is nothing more than a hopeless struggle of the weak; a complete self-deception.”
As the snake venom spread and the vitality in Kongshi’s eyes gradually faded. He slightly raised his head, neither breaking free from Yan Budu’s grip nor averting his gaze; his eyes were as calm as an ancient well without a ripple.
A composure that irritated others.
“When I leave this place, I will kill countless people and set their flesh on fire when I return to Huilian Mountain. But it’s different for Venerable. If Venerable survives, he could save thousands of lives… It’s not very cost-effective, trading one life for another.”
Yan Budu attempted to find hatred, confusion, or regret in Kongshi’s eyes.
But he found nothing.
“Think about it. When I spread this news, how much infamy will the Jianchen Temple bear among the ‘vast multitude of sentient beings’? …If you truly care about all beings, why not kneel down and beg me? If I’m pleased, perhaps I’ll grant you some inner force and let you leave the mountain alive.”
He once again tried to find hesitation, worry, or entreaty in Kongshi’s eyes.
Yet, he still found nothing. The suffering of the mortal world rolled by, but those eyes remained untouched by the slightest dust.
Kongshi’s cheeks grew cold, and his complexion became somewhat grayish.
The venom of the lotus snake was extremely poisonous, turning the internal organs to mush and causing unbearable pain. Although the monk should have been in excruciating agony, that annoying calmness remained undisturbed, without a ripple.
The two of them remained in a stalemate.
Yan Budu knelt on the chessboard, bowing down with one leg while his hands cupped Kongshi’s face. The two were so close that it seemed they were about to kiss, yet frozen like an ice sculpture caught in the wintry wind, suspended in mid-air.
Kongshi calmly gazed back. There was a moment when Yan Budu felt that he was not facing a living being, but a stone-carved Buddha.
This person was simply incomprehensible. Yan Budu couldn’t see through him, couldn’t understand him.
Even though he looked down at the other’s face from above, he faintly felt a sense of pity.
After a brief silence, Kongshi spoke again. It wasn’t a plea for mercy, but a gentle conversation. “After just taking the medicine, your meridians are weak. It’s better to sit up straight and continue cultivating.”
“You…”
The surroundings grew colder, and the color on Yan Budu’s face finally faded. For the first time, he failed to disguise his thoughts and let them show on his face.
It shouldn’t be like this.
He had seen too many people who understood righteousness, weeping and begging for mercy as death approached. Even if ordinary people met their deaths bravely, death came swiftly. Yan Budu understood better than anyone the terror of a slow approach to death.
But he couldn’t find a trace of fear in Kongshi’s eyes—not even a shred of it.
Yan Budu suddenly shuddered. His gaze toward Kongshi became increasingly suspicious and uncertain.
“I won’t save you.”
He mumbled, his lips trembling.
“It’s useless for you to wait here, and it’s useless to pretend everything is fine. I haven’t had some bullshit enlightenment, don’t you understand? I won’t help you. I never intended to save you from the beginning.”
Kongshi remained unmoved, continuing to recite sutras as before.
“You will die here with your corpse exposed in the wilderness, unattended, cursed for a hundred years. You…”
Yan Budu didn’t even blink his eyes. He released his grip on Kongshi’s face and licked his lips. His tone revealed a slight wavering.
“…You’re a monster. Are you truly an emotionless and heartless stone?”
Kongshi halted his silent recitation and casually replied, “I confess, this humble monk enjoys eating apricots. It can be considered a preference shared by some living beings.”
If it weren’t for the decay and darkness on his left arm, based on his tone alone, this monk seemed like an ordinary person with no concerns.
Yan Budu slowly returned to his straw cushion; his face devoid of any trace of a smile.
Undoubtedly, Kongshi saw through his agitation. “Amitabha, Patron’s state of mind is unstable. It would be better for both of us to continue this game and steady our minds.”
Yan Budu had nothing to say.
Facing a game that was nearly halfway through and a monk who was about to die, he had exhausted his efforts and racked his brain, but he couldn’t find any words more cruel. Countless interrogations and threats, in the presence of this stone-like monk, turned into bluster and empty intimidation.
“Patron, it’s your turn to make a move.”
Yan Budu stared blankly at Kongshi.
The monk’s expression was gentle, just like on the day they first met, the moment Yan Budu stepped into the cave.
After a moment, Yan Budu seemed to have realized something.
He slowly smiled again, revealing a hint of bitterness in his smile. “So that’s how it is. A whole month, with thoughts and emotions exchanged… It was all in vain. I was the one who went too far.”
He had exposed his true intentions and worked so hard, but in the end, it was all self-indulgence. In the presence of this person, there was no such thing as closeness or distance in human relationships.
“Kongshi, from the beginning, the ‘me’ in your eyes was never really ‘me’, was it?”
After a month had passed, all that calmness and gentleness were just projections of the formless sentient beings in this person’s eyes.
Whether Yan Budu was a three-year-old child or a hundred-year-old elder, whether he had hidden motives or was naturally wicked, he was nothing more than an ordinary stone in this person’s eyes.
From the moment Yan Budu stepped into the cave, Kongshi’s attitude had never changed even a bit, not one bit more or less.
Indeed, equality among all sentient beings!
“People all say that I am the most heartless one. But now it seems that you, Venerable, surpass me in that aspect.”
Kongshi smiled faintly. “Patron, you overestimate me.”
Time passed unhurriedly, cruelly silent.
Yan Budu rested his elbow on the stone chessboard while his ten fingers ran through his hair, no longer the confident and spirited self from before. He didn’t make a move and just clenched his teeth, remaining silent.
“…Patron, if you can’t think of a way to break the stalemate, this humble monk has a suggestion.”
The monk lowered his head slightly, as if observing the game that was already more than halfway played.
“Speak your mind.”
“Patron, why not try doing one good deed? One should be enough.”
Yan Budu sneered coldly. “Nonsense. Instead of wasting time thinking about such pointless things, it’s better to save your breath and live a little longer.”
Whether in the game or outside of it, the battle between black and white, good and evil, was deadlocked and difficult to determine. Faced with an opponent without any flaws, how could he win?
Oh well, Yan Budu thought with a sense of confusion. In any case, he couldn’t give up on attacking.
After pondering for a while, Yan Budu tightly gripped the blood-stained stone chess piece. “Venerable, I…”
But before he could finish his sentence, he immediately fell silent.
It was too quiet.
The silence was not from the cave itself. The fire continued to burn, and the sound of the storm could be faintly heard from outside the cave. The iron bowl still held a bit of medicinal soup, and the stone sword quietly leaned against the corner. The edges of the monk’s robe trailed in the dust, stirring up a bit of brownish-gray dirt.
Everything was in its place, but the sound of Kongshi’s breathing had disappeared.
The monk remained calm, his palms joined together in prayer. He sat in front of the chessboard, still like an ancient, solitary peak that had stood there since time immemorial.
Yan Budu slowly released the chess piece. It made a slight sound as it touched the chessboard; a sound that, against the backdrop of the silence, was as loud as thunder.
In the end, they never finished this game. Just like the passing of countless days and nights, it was nothing more than a fleeting illusion, without a beginning or an end.
Yan Budu sat expressionless in front of the chessboard, motionless, until the long night was about to end and the snow reflected a faint light.
“You, monk, couldn’t you at least wait for me to finish this move?”
Finally, he stood up, muttering to himself almost inaudibly.
“When an eminent monk passes away, there are often signs. But now, looking at it, it’s just a pile of dead flesh, rotting away.”
After that, Yan Budu never spoke again.
The night gave way to dawn.
Yan Budu chose a sunny slope nearby and dug a crude pit with his huge sword, burying Kongshi on the mountainside. He didn’t erect a tombstone, only placing the stone chessboard to serve as a marker. When he left, he didn’t even look back.
Although the world was vast outside the cave, this time Yan Budu didn’t keep his audience waiting for long.
The winter snow melted, and the seasons passed.
In the blink of an eye, the mountain was still a mountain, devoid of snow in all directions, only revealing stretches of desolate grass. The makeshift grave that could hardly be called a grave was covered by weeds, making it difficult to discern.
But Yan Budu remained the same.
He was still wearing the clothes from that day. His face was no longer marked by dark blood vessels, restoring his previous enchanting appearance. The previous sense of despair seemed to have been nothing more than an illusion. He still wore that arrogant expression of self-importance.
However, he now had a jar of wine and a roasted chicken in his hands.
“After descending from the mountain, I encountered many extraordinary things.”
Yan Budu sat cross-legged, deliberately dividing some wine and meat as an offering to the monk. He casually rambled on, as if they were still having a conversation in front of the chessboard.
“I even met an immortal, believe it or not. Unfortunately, they couldn’t stand my demon fish eyes, so I can’t show you any images.”
As he spoke, he coughed up a mouthful of blood and then drank it down with a bowl of wine.
“On that day, you asked me about my plans after ascending to immortality. Now that I’ve seen ancient immortal villages and magnificent celestial palaces, I have to say, those immortals are more boring than I imagined…”
The stone chessboard stood alone, and the wine flowed slowly along its edges. Silence pervaded the surroundings, only interrupted by the sounds of insects chirping in the grass.
Yan Budu laughed—a laugh filled with unparalleled recklessness.
“They gave me a fantastic toy, you know. I had been longing for it, but when I finally got it, it was rather underwhelming. It’s better to leave it for the younger generation to fight over and to see the true faces of the immortals. It will surely be a sight to behold, stirring up the heavens and the earth, quite exhilarating.”
“As for the Ling Sect, I have taken care of it. I have arranged everything regarding the other clues, including my precious tomb… When I built the tomb, I didn’t leave a way back. Now, clearing away the monsters and reducing the killing intent is even more difficult than setting up traps.”
“In another hundred years, a group of people will come rushing about. But even if they find the place, all they will discover is a lock.”
Yan Budu waved his sleeve, and a jade-colored object flew away with the wind. It deeply embedded itself into the stone chessboard, creating a hole like a final move. The unfinished game from the past finally reached its conclusion, just as it was in the beginning.
But this time, it was Yan Budu who took the initiative to set up the formation. Three cycles of calamities; a draw.
“The key—I left it with you. You can see with your own eyes how those younger ones tear each other apart. It seems that you, Venerable, have accumulated great merits. A hundred years from now, you might even be one of the ones they fight over.”
Having said that, he fell silent again, as if waiting for a response.
But of course, no one answered.
Gradually, the wine was finished, and only a skeleton remained of the meat. Yan Budu stretched lazily and gazed at the blood-like sunset.
“After consuming the ‘Shirou’, one can ascend to immortality in a single step. But in this world, no one understands themselves better than I do. After achieving immortality, in a few months, I will surely be in the embrace of soft jade and sweet fragrance, completely forgetting about that wretched cave.”
“However, I can no longer find a second cave. So, slowly forgetting about it seems like a waste.”
Yan Budu lit his smoking pipe and leisurely exhaled white smoke.
“Lastly, regarding your suggestion of ‘doing a good deed’. As long as I remain myself, regardless of what I give, if the recipient is an upright person, they are destined to have an unfavorable end.”
“One good deed requires a clear reputation. Venerable, in the end, you still want to save me… How beautiful.”
As the sky darkened, the flame in the smoking pipe gradually extinguished.
Yan Budu stood up, gazing at the stone chessboard in front of him. His smile was arrogant, and his crimson eyes were full of vitality, undiminished from years past.
“In this lifetime, I, Yan Budu, have killed countless people without regret. Witnessing death without saving, I have no regrets. You believe in reincarnation, but I do not. Heaven and earth are vast and distant, if I can’t see it, then I can’t see it.”
“But if you don’t repay that favor, it will weigh heavily on my heart. With your good moves, I have my wicked solution. Watch closely, Kongshi. Today, I will perform the greatest ‘act of kindness’ in the world.”
With those words, it only took an instant.
Without hesitation, a sharp sword qi surged forth. It pierced Yan Budu’s own body, piercing through his heart, and scarlet blood splattered.
Yan Budu was a person who struck ruthlessly, without mercy, even towards himself.
“What a pity…”
He spat out his final breath of blood, silently laughing.
“…My immortal tomb took quite some effort.”
The sword qi shattered the fabric on Yan Budu’s chest, and a few round apricots rolled into the pool of blood. At his heart, along the edges of the black-red hole, a dark green spider-shaped birthmark lay quietly, gradually being covered by the fresh blood.
The Ghost Tomb remained vacant for ten years, and his half-life of immortality came to an end. A generational prodigy met his demise, ultimately becoming a tomb without a coffin or a burial mound.
Night fell, and the mountains remained.
The stone chess board lay peacefully in its original place, surrounded by overgrown weeds, with a gentle breeze brushing past.
The author has something to say:
In the end, a Demonic Lord is still a Demonic Lord, and an eminent monk is still an eminent monk.
The onion skin of the fox, quite perilous.
Kinky Thoughts:
The title of the chapter is (落子) which means to make a move (in Go). It has a double meaning in this context in that Kongshi died before they could finish their Go game, and Yan Budu returned to his grave both to make a move (finish the Go game) and actually make his move in the real world (his “act of kindness”).
I really love this chapter. I have to say it beautifully articulates how both “evil” and “righteousness” can be cruel. Yan Budu is evil in his actions and disregards human life, while Kongshi treats everything indifferently in that they are all equal in his eyes (with no feelings, emotions, or attachment). Truly beautiful!
Meng Huai’s bodily sensations were beyond the grasp of everyone present. However, the feeling of being completely exposed to the other side, except for Zhong Chengshuo, was clear to everyone else.
It was enough to make one feel disoriented—an unbearable torment even for a second.
Meng Huai was fortunate. As a long-time employee of Shian, she had the means to quickly calm her emotions. Perhaps by a stroke of luck, she imagined the office area in the afternoon—it might be the safest place in the world for her.
Her imagination was hurried and chaotic, and what she imagined was blurry. The entire office area was far less real than what they had previously seen, filled with various distortions, blurriness, and incompleteness, like a crude model with rendering errors.
In the center of this absurd model, Meng Huai held Zhong Chengfeng tightly. She was like a person climbing onto a broken plank in a raging flood, uncertain how long the current situation could be sustained. She didn’t know where they were headed either.
If it were someone else, they might have been crushed by this helplessness. But Meng Huai clung to this lifeline like a drowning person, using an almost terrifying intuition to desperately imagine perfecting this office area. The others watched as the floor became even, the walls became clear, but there were countless damages in the corners, revealing the chaotic movements of the damaged exterior.
This chaos was different from before—a group of predatory Primordial Elementals passed by, enveloping this unfortunate little room. Following these Elementals from the Other Side, the surrounding space changed repeatedly, flipping the world upside down dozens of times.
Meng Huai wedged herself tightly in the doorway of the restroom, preventing herself from losing consciousness due to the turbulence. After an unknown amount of time, this small space finally stabilized again, like a grain of sand settling down after being carried by a school of fish in the current.
It was at this moment that Zhong Chengfeng opened her eyes.
……
“If it weren’t for the fact that we could take care of each other, I would have gone insane long ago,” Meng Huai’s voice came from behind the others.
The imaginary office area gradually peeled away, revealing the present perfect reality of the office area. The imagination dispersed, and the others realized they were still in the same place, not having moved an inch.
Zhong Chengfeng’s nose was still red, but her emotions had already calmed down. She cleared her throat and took over from where Meng Huai left off. “It took us a full four years just to find a safe course of action. During that time, we also had breakdowns.”
Zhong Chengfeng walked to the whiteboard, picked up a red pen, and made a mark as well.
This time, the scene was still the real office area, but outside the window was pouring rain instead of the setting sun.
The interior view was real, making it even more terrifying.
The monitors on one side of the wall were all blacked out, and the white wall was filled with various incomprehensible words written in black and red ink. Meng Huai and Zhong Chengfeng sat facing each other, on the verge of madness.
They carried many “things” within them.
Meng Huai’s skin was embedded with various stone talismans, like growths on her flesh. The inanimate objects seamlessly merged into her skin without leaving a trace. She barely maintained a sitting position with her spine deeply bent.
On the other hand, Zhong Chengfeng had all sorts of miscellaneous objects embedded in her. Picture frames, notebooks, pens, medals—they penetrated beneath her skin, making her resemble a realistic doll, inflated and on the verge of bursting at any moment. She curled up in pain, and her body trembled slightly.
Behind Meng Huai stood a young-looking Li Nian—a college student. He appeared handsome, with relatively plump cheeks and no signs of the thinness and sharpness left by time. One of his hands rested on Meng Huai’s shoulder as he repeated a phrase.
“Meng Jie,” he reluctantly addressed her.
And behind Zhong Chengfeng stood her parents.
“Fengfeng,” they softly called.
Meng Huai lifted her gaze with half of her face swallowed by the stone talismans, and only one bloodshot eye remained. “I can’t imagine it anymore, Chengfeng. I have a terrible headache.”
Zhong Chengfeng bitterly smiled. “I told you we’re already dead. This is hell… and you still don’t believe it.”
Zhong Chengshuo remained silent—he might not understand the subtle emotions involved, but he knew that under immense pressure, people inevitably fantasized about their “cherished ones”.
Just like his own “death”, Yin Ren made a mock flesh puppet of him.
They had been confined in this room for four years, unaware of the outside world and ignorant of their own situation. Even without food and water issues, it was likely more mentally challenging than being stranded on a deserted island. The transformations occurring in these two individuals were somewhat reminiscent of Jiao Lian and Fu Wuya, who were once Charons, most likely subjected to some form of corruption.
At that time, Shian knew next to nothing about the Other Side. These two people might have been wandering on the Other Side with their physical bodies. They had touched what they shouldn’t have touched, consumed what they shouldn’t have consumed, unknowingly violated numerous taboos.
The two deformed figures sat motionless in the center of the room, while their cherished ones stood behind them, mechanically calling out, as if summoning spirits.
Perhaps that was the final thread suspending their consciousness.
“No… we can’t.” Meng Huai struggled to clench her fingers tightly. “If we give up like this, everything will truly be over…”
Zhong Chengfeng blinked her eyes, almost obscured by the objects beneath her skin, revealing a trace of sorrow.
She didn’t speak, but her thoughts were evident in her eyes—by now, they were finished. Time had passed for who knew how long yet their bodies hadn’t aged, and the outside world was filled with endless nightmares. Unknowingly, their exploration outside had led them to become like this.
She lay still, and it seemed that even more objects were accumulating beneath her skin. They piled up on her body, threatening to bend her spine.
Meng Huai reached out her hand, and gradually, a sharp scalpel appeared in her hand.
“Come on, Chengfeng.” She pointed to her legs and feet filled with talismans and stones. “Cut them all off.”
“But you…” Zhong Chengfeng hesitated.
Meng Huai clenched her teeth, and the surgical knife in her hand gleamed coldly. “I don’t know what the situation is here, but I know this is a predominantly psychological space… Perhaps all these things on our bodies are manifestations of mental breakdown. When a person… When their mind is trapped in a dead end, they need external assistance…”
Her tone was extremely difficult.
“If my guess is correct… If you remove these things, I won’t die from loss of blood or anything. If things go smoothly on my side, I’ll help you…”
Zhong Chengfeng extended her deformed arm, “And if it doesn’t go smoothly?”
Meng Huai smiled.
“Then we’ll die together,” she said. “We have each other, so we won’t be alone on the road to the beyond.”
Zhong Chengfeng also smiled with a hint of tears in her laughter as she tightened her grip on the scalpel.
The blade pierced the boundary between the stones and the skin, causing Meng Huai to let out a cry of pain. She exerted all her strength, forcing herself not to struggle or resist. Meng Huai shifted her position, turning her head to look at the upright Li Nian behind her.
“Xiao Li.” She struggled to reach out her hand. “I know this isn’t like you, but… but…”
The imagined “Li Nian” crouched down, grabbing her hand.
“Meng Jie,” he repeated like an exquisitely crafted human repeater. “Meng Jie.”
Meng Huai closed her eyes.
……
Zhong Chengfeng promptly stopped the scene—no one wanted to witness their colleagues or loved ones being tortured.
“In any case, by the tenth year, we were able to freely move outside. Meng Huai will tell you about the methods and procedures later.”
She coughed twice.
“In the following time, we were constantly searching for that white space. According to Meng Huai, there seem to be many people inside. Then, rescuing people became the pillar that sustained the two of us…”
“And then they rescued me.”
The person named “Xiao Zheng”, who was the rear commander, said.
“I accidentally entered here two years ago, not inside that white space. If it weren’t for their timely discovery, I would have probably died in madness.”
“What happened to you?” Huang Jin asked cautiously.
Xiao Zheng’s expression turned bitter. “That day, I was in a hurry to go home for my child’s birthday… I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings and walked through a door that shouldn’t exist.”
Xiao Zheng’s account seemed familiar. He said that beyond that door was an endlessly looping Shian building, devoid of anyone. He couldn’t find his way back or figure out how to leave. After enduring a week, Xiao Zheng couldn’t bear it any longer. He pried open the elevator doors and intended to jump down the elevator shaft to commit suicide.
Zhong Chengshuo: “Interstitial space.”
Similar structures exist within Sunken Society’s stronghold.
Xiao Zheng forced a smile. “That’s what you call it? It’s more or less the middle ground. Anyway, after I jumped down the elevator shaft, I fell for several days before landing in this place… Haha, at that time, I was almost half-crazed. It was pure luck that they found me.”
“Later on, we also encountered unlucky individuals like me. Most of them were drained by the Elementals after going mad, leaving only a faint impression.”
Xiao Zheng gestured vaguely.
“It’s like the shadows of people after an atomic bomb explosion, stuck on the tunnel walls, not easily noticeable if you don’t look closely.”
After listening to his account, Huang Jin became even more cautious. “Wait, are you really from Shian? You disappeared only two years ago. You must know that Li Nian is the Minister, so why does Meng Huai seem unaware?”
Xiao Zheng looked at Huang Jin in shock. “Brother, I had just joined Shian not long ago, as a C-level investigation team. I only knew the higher-ups with the surname Li… It’s not like you guys don’t know what C-level tasks are like. It’s all similar to stiff like in <Approaching Science>. How could you possibly have encountered the Emergency Management Department?”
Huang Jin, Ge Tingting, Lu Xiaohe: “…”
Indeed, it seemed they hadn’t encountered an actual C-level task before.
What was a C-level task supposed to be like? Why couldn’t they remember? They only remembered meeting Fu Xingchuan every day, and Li Nian would be there tomorrow, so much so that Unit 9 even had two reserved seats for the two leaders.
Whose fault was this, exactly?
Since the Great Celestial Master wasn’t present, they all turned to Zhong Chengshuo, who met their gaze with an innocent expression.
“So, you’ve been investigating the whereabouts of the remaining missing individuals all along.” Zhong Chengshuo skillfully changed the topic.
Meng Huai curiously glanced at the subtly nuanced Shian personnel, but fortunately, it seemed she didn’t want to continue discussing “Li Nian becoming a Minister”. “Yes, and just last year, we found that white space. However, it was different from when I first escaped. There were many powerful Elementals guarding the outside now. If you try to go out, it’s no different from sending yourself to be captured.”
She shook her head, her expression turning solemn.
“This brings us to the key question—why did we attack that group of ‘Lonelies’? All of you, come with me.”
Dr. Cat climbed onto Fu Tianyi’s head in three swift movements and patted the back of his head with its paws. Zhong Chengshuo ran even faster, quickly catching up to Meng Huai.
Meng Huai walked straight to the entrance of the restroom and pushed the door open.
Instantly, the damp air turned icy cold. Zhong Chengshuo took a quick glance, and his expression froze for a few seconds.
Behind the restroom was a massive cold storage room, the product of someone’s imagination. And within this huge cold storage room hung the bodies of small Elementals, packed tightly together. One side had dark-colored organs, while the other side had pale-colored organs, arranged neatly and distinctly, resembling a slaughterhouse cold storage.
Zhong Chengshuo thought silently, ‘…It’s a good thing that Dog Thing is still with Yin Ren and didn’t come here. Otherwise, its power might have been scared into negative numbers right away.’
“Welcome to ‘Shian’s Temporary Branch Armory’,” Meng Huai said.
All the bodies emitted varying degrees of Evil Force. Fu Tianyi silently lowered Dr. Cat’s paw pad and covered his own eyes—it was the first time he had encountered a corruption source of this magnitude, even on a farmer’s market level.
“I saw earlier that you mixed the flesh and blood of two different Elementals together.”
Only Zhong Chengshuo still maintained his complete interest.
Meng Huai nodded. “Yes, you should know that these things can be divided into two categories—Fear represents the initial branch, while Satisfaction represents the other. They can roughly be classified as negative emotions in black and positive emotions in white.”
Meng Huai casually took out two small packets, each containing a small bag of Elemental flesh.
“For example, this one, the black one represents ‘Contempt’, and the white one represents ‘Longing’. When they are mixed together, there will be a clear repulsion reaction.”
She dabbed a bit from each side and vigorously rubbed them together, murmuring to herself. In the next moment, the mixture emitted a faint red light.
“By utilizing the power of this repulsive reaction, I can create some simple spells… The ones from the human world, you don’t even need to think about them. They won’t work.”
Zhong Chengshuo, who didn’t understand, asked, “Why?”
“The spells in the human world are built upon the circulation of evil qi, just like burning firewood,” Meng Huai explained concisely. “Tools designed specifically for burning firewood cannot be directly used to burn gasoline.”
After speaking, Meng Huai revealed a sense of relief.
“Thankfully, I can use this method. Unfortunately, they are all basic things—very simple and primitive. But now that so many cultivators have returned, I finally have a way to discuss optimization.”
When it came to his area of expertise, Huang Jin became enthusiastic. “These are all small Elementals, right? If we obtained the flesh and blood of larger Elementals, would the effects be stronger?”
Meng Huai bared her teeth at him. “Little brother, are nuclear weapons powerful?”
“Uh, powerful?”
“Then should we give every police officer a nuclear warhead?”
Huang Jin: “…”
“It’s just that I got lucky… That white room was undoubtedly made by a big shot. Even just that bell, with a bit of Evil Force can produce such a strong effect. If it were true body parts, Chengfeng and I would have been reduced to ashes long ago.”
Meng Huai clapped her hands.
“By the way, if it’s two big shots of equal strength, even if they are of the same kind, there would still be this repulsion reaction. But it’s difficult to determine such a situation. We can’t beat the big shots, so it’s safer to use the black and white combination.”
Huang Jin quickly moved his steps, distancing himself from Zhong Chengshuo.
Zhong Chengshuo secretly played with the phalanges in his hand. “Whether it’s the repulsion between positive and negative, or the incompatibility between strong individuals of the same kind, does the state of the flesh itself also matter for the reaction to be intense?”
Zhong Chengfeng was startled by her own cheeky brother’s insight. “How do you know that?”
Zhong Chengshuo remained uncharacteristically silent for a while before speaking. “I’m just guessing too. If the reaction appeared randomly, with Primordial Elementals constantly fighting each other internally, the Other Side would have been blown to pieces long ago.”
In fact, it wasn’t just a guess.
He and Yin Ren had indulged in wild and absurd nights several times, inevitably involving biting and kissing. If mere physical contact would cause an explosion, Haigu would likely be leveled by the two of them.
Unfortunately, Meng Huai didn’t know the secret behind it and simply thought the young man had a quick mind. She nodded approvingly. “It’s a pity. If you weren’t a science post, you would have great potential.”
The members of Unit 9 looked at the sky and the ground.
Meng Huai snapped her fingers. “Next, I will teach you how to use the flesh and blood of the Elementals.”
“Can I listen in?” Zhong Chengshuo asked, squeezing his knuckles.
“Of course.”
……
“Next, I will teach you how to survive on the Other Side,” Qi Xin said.
Yin Ren leaned against the soft pile of cats and nodded solemnly.
Qi Xin made an effort not to look at the “Lonelies” scattered all over the place. “Your weaknesses, in my opinion, are laughable—your emotions are unstable, and you have too much humanity.”
“‘Lacking humanity’ is an insult,” Yin Ren retorted. Without any companions around, he was unable to hold back.
“But you’re not human,” Qi Xin replied coldly. “’Disgust’ and ‘Love’ thrive on human emotions, and they are the ones most affected by human influence, yet they haven’t turned into an indecisive mess like you.”
“According to your own words… the first time, in the Fu Residence corpse cage, you nearly lost control due to the influence of ‘attachment’. The second time, you took the poorly made ‘Innocent Thoughts’ created by humans, and your behavior went completely out of control. The third time, you fought against ‘Joy’ and, in order to avoid the influence of the other party’s emotions, you handed control of the battle over to Old Fear.”
Indeed. Yin Ren shrunk his neck.
Qi Xin’s tone grew colder. “You should be the Fear that devours all emotions, yet you have managed to reach this point where even a random cat or dog can make you lose control—separating emotions to a certain extent is an innate skill of all Primordial Elementals. Your condition, if compared to humans, is similar to having an ‘immunity deficiency’.”
Perhaps because he wasn’t created by the heroic mother, “Satisfaction”, but rather as a result of Zhong Chengshuo cutting up half his body, he might even be a premature Elemental. However, looking at the intimidating Qi Xin, Yin Ren suppressed his inner thoughts and asked, “So what should I do?”
Qi Xin had mentioned that her training would be painful and dangerous.
Based on the TV melodramas Yin Ren had seen, at this point, he should either go for a realistic approach like “bone marrow transplant for leukemia” or take the fantastical route of “bidding farewell to the mortal world on the path of ruthlessness”. Yin Ren straightened his back nervously, no longer using the cat cushion.
Qi Xin smiled with that creepy smile again.
“It’s simple,” she said. “Just wait here.”
…The fewer the words, the more significant the matter, and Yin Ren became even more nervous. “Wait for who?”
“Wait for ‘Satisfaction’.”
Qi Xin crossed her arms and had a slightly gloating expression on her face.
Oh no, it seems like it’s not a TV melodrama but Animal World.
Those birds that kicked their offspring out of the nest and forced them to learn to fly on their own might have a similar expression to Qi Xin’s right now.
“You just need to break free from Satisfaction, then you’ll pass.” Qi Xin’s smile grew wider and wider. “Fear and Satisfaction are evenly matched and naturally antagonistic. There is no better training ground than this.”
[I’ll go with you!] Gao Mengyu’s cat, draped in a tablecloth, approached. [I need to pass through it to continue warning Gao Mengyu.]
Yin Ren didn’t object anymore and gripped the soft paw of the cat. “Will I die?”
Qi Xin shook her head. “No, at most, you’ll go insane. By then, I can only try my best to eat you and go find Love for a one-on-one duel.”
Yin Ren: “…”
“You better prove yourself. Don’t make me do those superficial activities.” Qi Xin’s eyes narrowed, and her entire face resembled a mask with narrow slits.
If he wanted to avoid these troublesome matters, now was probably the best chance, Yin Ren instinctively thought.
“I understand. When do we start?” Yin Ren asked.
He just recalled the previous sense of powerlessness, but in an instant, the thought of escape vanished like a dewdrop on a lotus leaf, rolling away.
[It’s coming soon.]
This time, the cat answered Yin Ren.
As native Elemental, for Qi Xin and the cat, the existence of “Satisfaction” might not be much different from a gentle morning breeze. Since “Satisfaction” would come on its own, Yin Ren could only strive to keep his emotions stable and stand quietly in place.
Disgust, Joy, Love, Sorrow. He had the fortune of experiencing the essence of these four.
Speaking of which, he seemed to have never seen the true original appearance of Zhong Chengshuo. In his memory, there were only endless black lakes in the cliffs and the chaotic rabbit jumping and crawling beside the lake. But at that time, Zhong Chengshuo’s body was already torn apart, in a state of struggling for survival.
He had never seen his lover’s true form.
So what would “Satisfaction”, which corresponded to Zhong Chengshuo, look like?
Suddenly, the cats in the courtyard stopped lounging around. They stood up one by one, hastily folding their own tablecloths and hugging them in their soft paws. In the previously silent space, a soft rustling sound suddenly emerged, like the waves of the sea. The sound wasn’t loud, but juxtaposed with the previous silence, it was like a thunderclap.
What was it?
Yin Ren turned around and looked towards the source of the sound.
Then he was rendered speechless.
In Yin Ren’s imagination, Satisfaction might be something like the waves of the sea. It might be much larger than an ordinary Elemental, flooding every corridor and covering the entire Other Side. However, reality proved that his imagination was still conservative.
It was like the line between day and night.
…There was no gradual submersion, but in an instant, it irresistibly and indiscriminately covered everything. The texture of “Satisfaction” appeared to be countless melted brains and nerves, radiating a pure white color, like swirling clouds.
Like the rising sun, the white light instantly engulfed Yin Ren’s vision.
Unstoppable, unavoidable, and impossible to escape. It was like no one could escape the rising sun, capable of covering the first rays of dawn.
In an instant, Yin Ren understood many things, such as why billions of years ago, they would have an infinite fear of “Fear”, and why the creatures of the Other Side didn’t think that “Fear” would be conscious thousands of years ago.
Just a being that governed birth, “Satisfaction” made even someone like him who had experienced storms and waves feel instinctive awe. How could something of this scale, something so close to a natural phenomenon, possess consciousness?
If… If the previous “Fear” was also like this, then his current self could only be described as a cub.
Next, the suffering would begin.
According to Qi Xin, “Fear” and “Satisfaction” were naturally antagonistic, and in the realm of competition, there was always someone stronger. As an ignorant cub, he would undoubtedly be rejected by “Satisfaction”. Yin Ren cautiously closed off most of his senses, waiting for the impending ordeal.
It was like averting one’s gaze and waiting for a nurse to administer an injection—the feeling was truly agonizing.
One second passed, nothing happened, and Yin Ren relaxed his perception a little.
Five seconds passed, still nothing happened, and Yin Ren once again relaxed his perception a bit—his current state was like looking through the cracks between his fingers.
Surrounding him was an expanse of white, with extremely low visibility. Gao Mengyu’s cat was still by his feet, holding his wrist with soft paws. Qi Xin wasn’t far away, and she seemed to have used some technique to prevent the coverage of “Satisfaction”.
In a slightly further distance, mist spun out of nowhere, forming milky white whirlpools.
The whirlpools spun faster and faster, with the central white part gradually darkening and solidifying. After a few seconds, several fist-sized “Lonely” cats trembled and appeared. They stood confused in place, and their sticky limbs reached out in disarray. Some larger cats with tablecloths draped over them crawled over, bundled them up with the tablecloths, and dragged them back to their group.
Newborns.
Gao Mengyu’s cat vigorously waved its soft paws, creating a huge white vortex in the space. It tightly grasped the still-dazed Yin Ren and rushed toward the vortex like a jellyfish.
Before Yin Ren could express his opinion, suddenly, a pile of jumbled and scattered bones appeared behind him. That pile of bones forcefully pushed him, almost stuffing him into the vortex. The force was so strong that if they were in the mortal world, Yin Ren suspected he would have been pushed out of the atmosphere.
That was definitely Qi Xin’s true form.
Yin Ren: “…” What if he successfully transformed into an adult Fear? Wasn’t she afraid of him holding a grudge?
Before he could finish pondering, countless “bubbles” squeezed in. They flashed with a soapy sheen within the white brain matter, incredibly beautiful. However, as they lightly brushed past, the pain was almost enough to make Yin Ren want to dig out his brain.
Those were pieces of information, condensed to the extreme—chaotic information. If the Other Side was a well-ordered internet, then these bubbles were like compressed packages containing countless chaotic consciousness. They expanded and burst in his mind, pouring out numerous emotions like surprise blind boxes.
In just a second, Yin Ren almost fainted.
The cat seemed to be unaware of everything. It clung to Yin Ren with its soft limbs, anxiously navigating through the squeezed bubbles. This time, the frequency of brain explosions increased. Amidst the onslaught of emotions like a gusty storm, his consciousness was like a flickering candle flame that could extinguish at any moment.
No wonder… the previous Fear… lacked emotions…
Only a vegetative-like void could contain so many, so complex…
“Dream.”
Qi Xin’s voice rang out from behind Yin Ren.
“Human beings cannot handle the information of the Other Side; it is said to be a realm of chaos. But in reality, the Other Side is simply too rich in information, and humans don’t know how to deal with it. The Other Side has always operated within order, and it is here that true chaos exists.”
Countless creatures’ dreams, which was the only way for the spirit to self-repair.
Without reason, without logic, only boundless, kaleidoscopic projections of emotions.
[It’s her!]
The cat discovered something, exclaiming in joy. It released Yin Ren’s wrist and swam towards an ordinary-looking bubble. When it reached its destination, it tightly embraced the bubble, attempting to squeeze its eyeballs inside.
[You go ahead, I need to focus.] It solemnly declared.
“Wait…”
Amidst the collision of countless dreams, Yin Ren forcibly held onto his consciousness.
“Is… it Gao Mengyu’s dream… Can you help me… convey a message…”
Finishing his words, he mustered his strength and imprinted a series of words into the cat’s mind.
Just as he completed this task, a dream collided directly with his face. The infinite emotions within the dream exploded in his mind, and Yin Ren completely lost consciousness.
“That’s enough.”
Qi Xin coldly floated in the distance.
The most primal, most chaotic emotions didn’t give any chance for logical understanding and digestion. All they could do was provide repeated and intense stimulation.
Like a whetstone, they could quickly grind away the least important parts. Qi Xin casually tapped on a bubble, causing it to burst into tears at her fingertips.
“Cub, ‘humanity’ is your biggest weakness,” she said.
“To survive as a top-tier Primordial Elemental, you must discard it. Choose between ‘maturity’ or ‘humanity’… If you want both, all that awaits you is madness.”
At the same time.
Gao Mengyu abruptly woke up from her dream, sweat covering her forehead. Barefoot, she ran to the telephone and dialed the Emergency Management Department’s number directly.
“The dream has changed. I’ve received information from Unit 9,” she urgently said.
Meng Huai was quite tall, while Lu Xiaohe, standing near her, appeared petite.
Lu Xiaohe’s mental and physical energy couldn’t hold on for long against the overwhelming memories. They melted and shattered like wafers, revealing the scenes behind her.
The “Lonely” cats took the opportunity to huddle together openly, hiding behind the group of people. Huang Jin and Ge Tingting stood still, with Huang Jin tightly holding Ge Tingting, whose face turned red. They both looked at Qi Xin. Fu Tianyi held Dr. Cat tightly in his arms, nervously holding his breath.
The expressions of Yin Ren and Zhong Chengshuo were different, as if their souls had been exchanged—Yin Ren’s lips were tightly pursed and his mouth turned downward, while Zhong Chengshuo fixedly gazed at Lu Xiaohe’s back with eyes filled with a questioning look.
Meng Huai crossed her arms and still stood at the forefront of the trio. She narrowed her eyes and carefully observed Lu Xiaohe for a while.
“Alright.” She ruffled her hair. “I believe you’re not a person from Sunken Society.”
Upon hearing this, the man behind her immediately showed a hesitant expression. Meng Huai seemed to have eyes on the back of her head as she responded without turning around, “What’s the matter, Xiao Zheng? Do you have any objections to my judgment?”
“I just thought it would be better to be more cautious…”
Meng Huai: “People from Sunken Society wouldn’t be able to show these emotions. If we’re talking about cognitive pollution, I don’t have that much imagination. These arguments seem a bit subjective. Well, let’s say they’re sixty percent accurate.”
The man’s eyebrows twitched, but he remained silent. Yin Ren was familiar with this helpless expression. It was the same expression that Professor Li wore every time he faced the various “intuitions” of Fu Xingchuan.
Being recognized so quickly, even Lu Xiaohe herself showed a trace of disagreement on her face.
Meng Huai didn’t waste any more words. “Miss Lu, let me answer the question you care about the most. I haven’t seen your mother but given that you came here to search for missing people, I probably know where she is.”
After finishing her sentence, she added succinctly, “No one has died or gone insane in the past month, so your mother is definitely fine.”
Her tone was sharp and domineering, making these words sound genuine and convincing.
Lu Xiaohe felt her whole body sway as if a force had been sucked out of her. However, she still stood her ground, trying hard to suppress the relaxation on her face. “But you…”
But she was still unsure if the people in front of her were genuine.
“They are human,” Qi Xin said disappointedly when she realized there would be no fight. “If you don’t intend to fight, don’t waste any more of my time.”
She glanced somewhat regretfully at Yin Ren. Yin Ren pretended not to understand that look—anything that couldn’t force Yin Ren to take action was considered a waste of time in Qi Xin’s eyes.
In a sense, “Sorrow” wasn’t any better than “Love”. Ms. Qi only wanted to train her cub; she genuinely didn’t care about the life or death of humans.
Meng Huai glanced at everyone and beckoned with her finger. “It’s not convenient to talk here. Miss Lu, Mr. Zhong… You, you, you, and that cat, come with me.”
Her finger smoothly pointed at Ge Tingting, Huang Jin, and Fu Tianyi holding the cat, deliberately skipping Yin Ren and Qi Xin.
Yin Ren couldn’t sit still anymore. “Ms. Meng, what’s the meaning of this?”
Meng Huai smiled slightly. “I’ll only take humans to the stronghold of humans. Sorry, but something feels off about you two.”
Qi Xin was quite satisfied with this outcome, and her tone became relieved. “Take them all, they’re yours.”
Mr. Zhong, pretending to be clueless, pondered for a moment and decided to play dumb. He comfortingly squeezed Yin Ren’s hand, took two steps, and walked to Ge Tingting and Huang Jin’s sides.
“I’ll be back soon. It’s a good opportunity to gather information,” Before leaving, Zhong Chengshuo said with a serious expression. “Take good care of yourself.”
Yin Ren: “…” Meng Huai’s intuition was quite remarkable, but unfortunately, she missed the biggest one.
Yin Ren: “Alright, I’ll wait nearby.”
Yin Ren wasn’t too worried about the safety of these people. Although Qi Xin didn’t care about humans, at least she wasn’t foolish—if anyone from Unit 9 died due to Qi Xin’s judgment, he would definitely turn against her. Since Qi Xin voluntarily vouched for them, there shouldn’t be any problem with the identities of these people on the Other Side.
Meng Huai didn’t want to reveal the true identities of the humans to a Primordial Elemental, which was understandable. At least the members of Unit 9 who went along would learn some self-defense skills. Meng Huai had managed to survive on the Other Side for nearly thirty years, so her methods must be quite formidable.
…Zhong Chengshuo might even be safer over there.
This thought was like a thorn that pricked Yin Ren as soon as it emerged. He couldn’t help but hold his breath and look at the retreating figures of his companions.
The two groups of humans met at the gate of the small courtyard.
Yin Ren watched as Zhong Chengshuo rushed to Zhong Chengfeng’s side, urgently saying something, and towards the end, the female officer cried and laughed. Meng Huai kept chatting non-stop with Lu Xiaohe, most likely confirming the situation at Shian.
The remaining rear commander seemed enthusiastic as they chatted with Dr. Cat—this person had only disappeared two years ago, so they must have heard about their famous feline colleague.
On the Other Side, even if the visual distance wasn’t far, Yin Ren still couldn’t hear what they were saying or read their lips. In the end, he could only withdraw his gaze dejectedly.
Gao Mengyu’s cat approached cautiously and rubbed against his hand with its soft limbs.
Yin Ren: “What’s the matter?”
“You smell delicious,” the cat said. “The person who used to feed me would occasionally emit this scent. At those times, she would always come to hug me. Do you want to hug me?”
Yin Ren gently touched the sticky and brain-like limbs of the cat. “Thank you, but no need.”
He watched as Zhong Chengshuo waved at him, and then the group disappeared into the vortex. Silence returned to the vicinity of the small courtyard, and the cats once again pulled out their tablecloth and started lounging on it.
In the vast courtyard, besides the “Lonelies” lying everywhere, only Yin Ren and Qi Xin remained.
Qi Xin: “Cub, what are you thinking?”
“I feel lonely, sad, and afraid, and I’m hungry, like a little match seller.” Yin Ren’s face drooped. “I hate this kind of quiet environment the most.”
“Those humans won’t die.” Qi Xin clumsily comforted. “The woman in charge knows what she’s doing. It was only just now that I realized the existence of those three humans.”
Yin Ren’s face drooped even more severely. “I understand the reasoning.”
Qi Xin fell silent for a moment, then gave up on the “comforting” route and instead asked straightforwardly, “So what’s your plan?”
Only then did Yin Ren turn his head. “I plan to do as you wish and gain power as soon as possible—to become strong enough to easily find those people and go to their side.”
“Oh, I like that.”
Qi Xin revealed that awkward smile again, seeming human yet not quite.
“I’ll say it upfront. The process will be painful and extremely dangerous—without Old Fear around, are you sure you want to try?”
Yin Ren didn’t hesitate for a second. “It’s precisely because he’s not around that I want to give it a try as much as possible.”
“Quite the ambitious bunch you all are,” Qi Xin rolled her eyes and muttered to herself.
“What did you say?”
“Nothing.”
……
Meng Huai’s way of traveling was completely different from the cat legion.
She led everyone out of the tunnel, then took out some fresh black and white minced meat from her personal belongings. She mixed them together, put on a ring on her right hand, and pressed it firmly onto the mixture, drawing a simple symbol.
Compared to the exquisite and elegant magical rituals in the human world, this method was rough, like an ancient ceremony.
But it was effective.
In an instant, the surrounding space cracked like fish scales. Zhong Chengshuo’s vision was filled with wild colors swirling, and his footing shifted between solid and empty. When he stabilized himself, the scene before him had completely changed.
He had never seen this room before, but the door plaque was clear—Emergency Management Department’s dedicated office area.
The details of the room were vivid, and the view outside the window was beautiful. At first glance, Zhong Chengshuo even thought they had returned to the human world.
Under the afternoon sun, the tables and chairs were arranged haphazardly, and several whiteboards were filled with densely packed battle plans. Three camp beds were placed in the corner of the room, with a few pieces of clothing scattered on them. The door to the bathroom was ajar, emitting a damp smell.
On one side of the room, the screen wall in the office area continuously played various scenes.
If this was the real Emergency Management Department, it would probably display images of severe accidents or the latest data analysis from the science division. But at this moment, the scenes on the screen were heartwarming.
A young Zhong Chengfeng showed her parents her first police uniform with a face still carrying a hint of innocence. Young Meng Huai and Li Nian sat on the couch, snacking and watching horror movies. One laughed heartily, while the other remained expressionless. The man who had been missing for two years held a newborn baby, leaning forward to kiss his wife’s cheek, his eyes filled with unwavering love.
One event after another, one moment after another, all the best people and the best times.
They looped on the display screen, occasionally switching to another segment. Each segment was vivid and resembled a recorded video.
“After staying in this hellhole for a long time, we need something to reminisce about,” Meng Huai explained generously when she saw Zhong Chengshuo constantly looking at the screen. “Have a seat. As long as it doesn’t involve electricity and signals, we can imagine and use things—oh, right, don’t imagine food, and definitely don’t touch anything outside that resembles food.”
Huang Jin silently put down the mini shelf he was holding.
Meng Huai smiled at him, grabbed a whiteboard, and quickly wiped it clean. “I’m sure you all have a lot of questions, so ask away. Ah, it’s been a while since I had this kind of mission briefing!”
Ge Tingting was about to speak but was stopped by Zhong Chengshuo.
He may not be familiar with social etiquette, but he knew how to negotiate with “mission targets”.
Although everyone was friendly now, Zhong Chengfeng had basically believed in his identity as a member of the Zhong family. However, her gun was still not put away, Meng Huai maintained a low center of gravity, and the rear commander stayed in a safe corner. These people had been on the Other Side for a long time, so it was impossible to give them complete trust easily.
In this situation, the first question was crucial. It wouldn’t be appropriate if Ge Tingting opened her mouth to ask “How to gain power for battle” or “Do you have any other companions”.
“You said you know the situation of the other missing individuals—where are they? How are they doing now?” Zhong Chengshuo was the first to ask.
Meng Huai raised an eyebrow with a hint of approval on her face. “Honestly, I thought something was off about you, boy. But with that statement, you have a bit of the scent of Shian.”
She casually picked up the pen next to the whiteboard and lightly tapped it on the clean surface.
This moment was like throwing a stone into a lake, causing countless ripples to spread through the space. The images on the display wall paused momentarily, then a blinding white light emerged from the front wall and pressed towards everyone.
Zhong Chengshuo managed to raise his hand, but the white light dissipated before reaching him.
When he opened his eyes again, the other three members of Unit 9, Fu Tianyi and Meiqiu, were all still by his side. However, they were no longer in the Shian Office in the afternoon; instead, they were in a vast white space.
In the white space without any visible boundaries, it was filled with densely intertwined translucent white threads, creating a narrow and crowded environment resembling a white rainforest covered in vines. These threads were everywhere, winding around and forming nest-like structures with graceful arcs.
Zhong Chengshuo glanced at the nearest nest. Within each nest, several translucent white arms gently embraced a white cocoon, which, despite being thickly wrapped, still showed a human shape. Soft and gentle murmurs flowed out from the openings of the nests.
At first glance, it resembled the white world full of giant feet created by “Joy”.
An enemy attack?
No, it didn’t seem like it. There was no hostility around, nor the presence of a colossal being. Compared to the special space constructed by the Primordial Elementals, this place seemed more like…
More like a flashback.
And what happened next quickly confirmed Zhong Chengshuo’s speculation—
“There!” Meiqiu’s tail exploded.
Zhong Chengshuo immediately shifted his gaze, and behind him was a vortex hanging in the air.
Meng Huai, holding the unconscious Zhong Chengfeng, shouted desperately with a hoarse voice, struggling madly within the vortex. “What kind of damn place is this? Comrades, put in more effort! We’re about to drag innocent people into this! We’ll face punishment!!!”
Countless ghostly hands surrounded her, and those fierce ghosts were working together, apparently intending to pull her back to the human world. Unfortunately, the vortex continued to slowly and irresistibly engulf her.
Judging by her appearance, she was wearing the same red shirt, but her hair wasn’t yet disheveled. Meng Huai was covered in sweat and mud stains, and the clothes on her body were twisting and changing, gradually transforming into a police uniform.
“Ah, fuck me. Ahhhhhhhh—”
In the midst of Meng Huai’s sorrowful and angry screams, the vortex seemed like a mouth spitting out two watermelon seeds. It spat out both of them into the space with a “pff” sound. In the next instant, it simply vanished.
The white threads gave her no time to react as they swiftly entangled her from all directions. It was as if countless invisible spiders were spinning around the two of them, determined to wrap them up into two white cocoons.
Yes, two cocoons.
This meant that they needed to separate the two individuals first. The white threads patiently wrapped around their feet, pulling them in opposite directions.
As a candidate for the Minister of the Emergency Management Department, Meng Huai’s reaction speed was extremely fast. She held the unconscious Zhong Chengfeng tightly and quickly cast her spells. The moment she realized that her magic had failed, she reached for her bag of spirit weapons.
Huang Jin sighed on the side. Inanimate objects couldn’t enter the other realm, so it seemed that Ms. Meng Huai’s equipment was more of a liability than a blessing.
Sure enough, she came up empty-handed.
With two failed attempts, Meng Huai’s face twisted in frustration. At the same time, her legs were tightly wrapped by the white threads, and the shape of the entanglement was somewhat similar to the “nest cocoon” that surrounded them from all directions.
However, Meng Huai didn’t give up. She sneered and reached into her bosom.
This time, she pulled out a small ball sealed with a talisman. After tearing it open in three swift motions, a small, aged silver bell appeared, with its silver oxidized to a near-black color.
Meanwhile, the Evil Force surged violently, and the speed at which the white threads entangled them suddenly slowed down, as if they were wary of something.
Zhong Chengshuo: “…”
He recognized this item. It was the silver bell Yin Ren used to wear around his ankle.
During his time as the Great Celestial Master, Yin Ren used the silver bell to warn others, allowing the public to retreat. However, due to its fragile material, the silver bell was lost several times during Yin Ren’s fights against the Evil Spirits. Later on, he replaced it with a bone bell made from his own bones.
In theory, these items should be in the location where the Evil Spirits were sealed, inaccessible to ordinary people. But considering they were excavated by Shian, it seemed quite reasonable.
A typical corruption source of Evil Force, and the Evil Force on it belonged to “Fear”.
Meng Huai successfully brought it into the Other Side.
“Eat shit!”
Meng Huai held Zhong Chengfeng tightly with one hand and tightly clenched the bell with the other, pressing it against the white threads on their feet. Her movements were swift, and the white threads couldn’t avoid it in time, coming into close contact with the black bell.
Crack!
Like a flame igniting a fuse, the white threads immediately caught fire, desperately trying to escape. The black bell also quickly melted, emitting a burning red light, forcing Meng Huai to let go.
The black remnants fell to the snowy white ground. Like a drop of strong acid, it instantly corroded a huge hole, revealing the chaotic gray-black exterior.
On the other side, as the bell shrank smaller and smaller, the surrounding threads began to stir again.
Taking advantage of the bell not being completely corroded, Meng Huai embraced Zhong Chengfeng and, without hesitation, jumped into that chaos.
Upon hearing these words, the people sitting or standing in the conference room were stunned, but their first glance wasn’t at Xing Conglian but at the old man with a limp leg and a urine bag.
There was no doubt that Morgan Stanley was the largest global financial services company, involved in all industries related to money. And the fact that the old man was the former CEO of Morgan Stanley indicated that he had held a prominent position in the world of finance.
The old man grinned, showing a mouthful of white teeth without any modesty. “What are you looking at? That’s how I roll!”
“So, what about Captain Xing…?” someone tentatively asked as their gaze shifted to Xing Conglian with a similar intensity as if they were looking at a bank vault.
“Come on, do you really think I’m his chauffeur?” The old man was also exasperated. “With my status, how could I be his driver? After the retirement of the President of Metti, he can only be a gardener for our master. Even the Governor of Yueqiu has to wait in line to visit our home…”
The previous look of satisfaction on the face of Chairman Zhou gradually faded as he listened, finding these words increasingly bizarre and suspicious. At first glance, they seemed like nonsensical ramblings, but considering the old man’s identity, he had to play along with the act to cover for Xing Conglian. Therefore, Xing Conglian’s identity was not merely described by the simple phrase “a kid from a rich family”.
Furthermore, all these theatrics conveyed one message: Zhourui Pharmaceutical, you think you’re valuable, but we don’t really care. Therefore, the accusation of bribery is akin to a beggar accusing a wealthy person of extortion—nothing more than a joke.
Chairman Zhou clenched his teeth. The old man didn’t directly insult him, but every word felt like the ultimate humiliation.
His emotions fluctuated wildly, and his face turned from red to blue to pale. He began to ponder the causes and consequences of the entire story and where he had ultimately lost. But in the end, as he lifted his head and looked at the employees in the entire conference room, he realized that from the very beginning, he had no chance of winning.
Why did it turn out like this?
His gaze fell outside the window. The current floor they were on was relatively low, with only a narrow strip of sky visible between buildings.
Suddenly, in that moment, he seemed to have thought of something very interesting, and a trace of understanding appeared on his face.
The expression was extremely relieved, even carrying a sense of satisfaction from avenging a great enmity.
In reality, there were no winners, only a prearranged storyline.
He finally stood up slowly, with a hint of a smile appearing on his face. It was as if he had just realized that there was no one around him anymore.
In that instant, Xing Conglian keenly captured this reaction. Since entering the conference room, it was the first time he had stood up from his seat.
“Inspector Huang,” Xing Conglian called out.
Huang Ze stood against the wall and looked over.
“Please proceed with recording.” Xing Conglian paused, then addressed everyone. “I want to have a private conversation with Chairman Zhou.”
As soon as these words were spoken, within two minutes, everyone in the conference room had cleared out completely.
Xing Conglian stood by the window, with the influential figure from the pharmaceutical company approaching him slowly, dragging his heavy steps.
From the third-floor window, he could clearly see the bustling scene downstairs.
Office workers hurriedly rushed out of the subway exit, and young people ran quickly on the square, fearing they would be late for clocking in. Everything was a typical scene of a normal workday, thriving and bustling.
In just a dozen steps, the chairman seemed to have aged by over ten years.
The middle-aged man finally stood beside him, hunching his body. This figure of authority finally shed all the cunning, maliciousness, and worldliness, speaking candidly and sincerely. “I have investigated your background. You are just an ordinary detective. To target you was the best choice for me at the time.”
Xing Conglian listened to this explanation, and although he knew that people could be very bad and foolish, he still felt angry when such things kept happening.
Zhou Shi continued, “Because of the information asymmetry, I underestimated you. Captain Xing, you effortlessly dismantled our company, using various means. I, Zhou, willingly admit my defeat.”
Xing Conglian looked at the office workers rushing around downstairs, and for a brief moment, he remembered the scene from yesterday when he overlooked everything from a tall building.
At that time, Lin Chen sat beside Shen Lian, and they both made the most difficult decision of their lives.
Thinking of Lin Chen, Xing Conglian calmed down, suppressing the anger in his heart, and said to the businessman beside him, “Chairman Zhou, everyone makes mistakes.”
“Please go on.” Chairman Zhou bowed respectfully, showing his humility.
“I once witnessed a scene.” Xing Conglian turned his head, his gaze falling on the crow’s feet at the corner of the middle-aged man’s eyes. “On the road, one dog bit another dog, and the bitten dog turned around and attacked a passerby.”
A trace of chill flashed across Chairman Zhou’s face as his thoughts were struck, but he still lowered his head and said obediently, “Dogs are extremely foolish.”
“So, do you still think that I am the one who brought down your Zhourui Pharmaceutical until now?” Xing Conglian didn’t like playing games, especially not with someone like Zhou Shi. He continued, “Out of millions of compounds, the TERN miraculous substance appeared, possessing strong healing properties, while the isomer is an unheard-of poison. As the boss, please estimate how many experts and teams you would need to develop such a compound?”
“It’s hard to say. All scientific research actually involves luck.”
Xing Conglian said, “Is that so? Then, at the beginning of TERN’s development, before Shen Lian joined your company, who introduced this compound into Nao Kangning?” Xing Conglian said coldly, “How could Shen Lian alone accomplish such a massive plan? From the initial compound screening to the final production and release of the drug, it took over a decade. Over a decade ago, someone secretly planted a seed, and countless people watered it tirelessly over the years. It only fully erupted yesterday, causing your pharmaceutical empire, built through countless days and nights of hard work, to collapse overnight. But you are shortsighted, only seeing me standing here, and you fail to see the person who planted the seed over a decade ago.”
The middle-aged man suddenly looked up at him, but Xing Conglian raised his hand to stop Zhou Shi from explaining and firmly said, “Just half a minute ago, you wanted me to give up pursuing the bribery through preemptive explanations and meaningless flattery. So now, please answer me two questions. First, since you never suspected Shen Lian of wrongdoing in Nao Kangning for a long time, why did you suddenly discover yesterday that she was the mastermind? Second, within the entire administrative department, you had countless options to choose as scapegoats, so why did you solely target me? Is it a coincidence or a deliberate arrangement?”
The commercial district buzzed with voices as office workers carried their breakfast and streamed out of convenience stores. It was an ordinary morning.
Zhou Shi’s body finally completely slumped, and the intense struggle in his heart seemed about to overwhelm him.
Finally, he raised his head and looked at Xing Conglian. “I guess I am truly very foolish.”
……
Huang Ze had been standing outside the meeting room.
Although Xing Conglian instructed him to take people for interrogation, as an Inspector, it felt strange to be ordered by a subordinate like Xing Conglian.
Apart from him, the old man who had just wreaked havoc in the meeting room was also there.
To be honest, he couldn’t connect this bald, emaciated old man with the former high-flying executive of a major corporation, especially when the old man was carrying a urine bag, constantly hopping and complaining that his urine was about to leak out.
However, apart from them, the first scientist who stood up against Zhourui Pharmaceutical was also present, along with the young members of the team led by the scientist.
Li Zheng was persistently pestering the old man, constantly inquiring about the follow-up matters of the company’s acquisition.
The old man became impatient with the questioning and directly threw the urine bag at the other party’s hand. “How would I know if the acquirer is reliable? Look, I can’t even hold my urine. How could I have the capability to buy your company?”
Li Zheng became even more anxious. “What will happen during the period of turmoil? Will the production and sales of our company’s regular drugs be affected? Will many research projects be immediately interrupted?”
“It’s hard to say. The duration of the acquisition can range from weeks to a year. Moreover, the upper management of your company is deeply involved in a criminal case, so trading will be halted tomorrow. The best choice, of course, is to wait until the stock price plummets after trading resumes and then make the acquisition.” The old man twirled his mustache and glared. “Do you know how much it costs to consult someone like me for a similar question?”
“But I really don’t have that much money.” Li Zheng held the old man’s urine bag with great sincerity. “But I must ask you this question, and I implore you to answer it. It not only involves my research project but, more importantly, I cannot become a criminal. As you mentioned just now, in addition to vaccines, our company also produces some rare medicines with extremely low profits. Only we have the capability to produce them. If our company really falls into turmoil, there may be serious problems with the supply of certain drugs and even vaccines. It could lead to situations where patients suddenly fall ill and are unable to receive medication, which is a societal issue that affects everyone.”
Li Zheng earnestly pleaded.
“What exactly do you want?” The old man snatched his urine bag back and turned to leave.
Li Zheng said firmly, “Can you use your resources to buy our company in the shortest possible time?”
The old man was surprised to hear this, and Huang Ze frowned while looking at Li Zheng.
Just then, the doors of the meeting room were pushed open, and sunlight poured in like water.
Xing Conglian stood in the doorway; it was unclear how long he had been standing behind the door.
The old man seemed to have not noticed that the chairman of the pharmaceutical company was standing behind Xing Conglian. He pointed at Li Zheng and spoke to Xing Conglian as if no one else was present. “Are all the researchers sick? They have no understanding of economics. He actually asked me to buy Zhourui at the fastest speed?”
“Can you do it?”
To Huang Ze’s surprise, he heard Xing Conglian ask such a question.
“Of course I can…” The old man began, but suddenly he stared at Xing Conglian. “Are you crazy?”
Just then, Xing Conglian’s phone rang. He answered the call and hung up. His tense expression suddenly relaxed, and a relieved look, as if everything was destined, appeared on his face.
Huang Ze knew that Lin Chen had probably woken up.
“Take action.”
Xing Conglian raised his head and uttered those words with a determined gaze.
Wang Chao, who had been sitting on the ground playing with his laptop, suddenly stood up, causing the laptop to fall to the ground. “Fuck me Boss!”
The young people looked at Xing Conglian in confusion, not understanding why things had suddenly taken this turn.
And at that moment, Huang Ze seemed to see the figure of Lin Chen overlapping with Xing Conglian.
It was only then that Huang Ze realized how much Xing Conglian resembled Lin Chen.
Xing Conglian looked at the old man with a determined gaze, making it imperative for him to answer.
“How many senior executives change jobs every year and get accused by their previous employers under various pretexts? Look into the name ‘Liu Chunning*’.” The old man, holding the urinary bag, smiled ambiguously at the guilt-ridden executives from Zhourui. “The most likely scenario is that these naive kids have been squeezed. They probably have some shares of Zhourui themselves. If the company goes bankrupt and they end up in jail, they might as well come forward now to protect the company. Who knows, the chairman might have promised to take care of their wives and children and give them more money every year. That’s how it goes when it comes to taking the blame.”
*Alibaba’s vice president who was arrested for bribery and corruption.
No one had expected Xing Conglian to publicly expose this hidden truth, let alone the fact that this “bum-like old man” he brought along would be able to point it out and dare to do so.
“How should it be resolved then?” Xing Conglian asked.
“It’s simple.” The old man’s gaze suddenly became shrewd and sharp. “You can tell them that even if they take the blame, the company may not necessarily be saved. When disaster strikes, it’s every man for himself.”
“I’m afraid that reasoning won’t convince them,” Xing Conglian said. “Behind pharmaceutical companies are complex financial conglomerates, and the days of rebels are probably not going to be easy.”
The old man took two steps forward and stood facing Xing Conglian, and he replied, “That makes it even simpler…”
He dragged out his tone, and in an instant, all the high-ranking executives who were prepared to take the blame turned to look at the old man, instinctively awaiting his answer.
“The highest bidder wins,” the old man casually said, as if he were casually buying a pastry.
Everyone in the conference room was dumbfounded, as if they had heard the most nonsensical plot twist.
The first one to burst into laughter was the chairman of Zhourui Pharmaceutical.
He took off his glasses, lowered his head, and smiled helplessly. “With such a mess, if you want to buy it, we can discuss the price.”
“Who wants to buy your pathetic company?” The old man hunched over, limping his way to the chairman, and seemed to be pointing out the way forward. “But just because I don’t want to buy it doesn’t mean no one is interested in it.”
Before the chairman could speak again, the old man affectionately patted his head, which was shiny with hair gel, and said, “You’re promising them a possibility for the future, but not the greatest possibility. In a sense, you’re deceiving them.”
The old man snapped his fingers and said directly, “Comrade Xiao Wang, show these uncles the case of the hostile acquisition* of Anlijie Pharmaceutical by Canadian pharmaceutical company Wali.”
*Also known as a hostile takeover, it is when a company (the acquirer) takes control of another company (the target) without the approval or consent of the target company’s board of directors. This is usually done when the acquirer goes directly to the shareholders or fights to get management replaced to get their acquisition approve.
Since the old man entered the room, Wang Chao seemed to have figured something out. He had been making gestures at his boss for a while, but Xing Conglian remained inscrutable, giving him no hints. When he heard the old man’s request, he looked at Xing Conglian with surprise, and then, as if he had been prepared all along, he clicked on the document on the desktop, and a well-detailed acquisition process appeared on the large screen.
Except for the research and development personnel, everyone in the room had some understanding of business acquisitions, so they had no trouble following along. The executives’ gazes became evasive and no longer as resolute as before.
“In fact, it’s very difficult for your company to survive.” The old man stood with his hands behind his back and said, “When I was taking a dump, I read some news about your company. In early September of this year, you initiated the acquisition of Li Nanquan Pharmaceutical. On September 7th and 8th, you acquired 19.5% of Li Nanquan’s shares through secondary market transactions.”
The old man paused, and as soon as he mentioned the acquisition, everyone became tense. The old man comforted them. “Don’t be too nervous, there’s nothing wrong with that. It’s a normal hostile takeover. With an additional 0.6%, your company will become the largest shareholder of Li Nanquan Pharmaceutical. But the problem is, isn’t your company already in big trouble? Li Nanquan could easily adopt the common poison pill defense plan* in the industry to counter the acquisition. Then your company, not only invested a significant amount of money in a doomed acquisition but also faced the dilemma of a major criminal case, along with issues such as bank loans coming due. With multiple pressures, things will be miserable. Oh, wouldn’t you end up bankrupt and undergo restructuring? In that case, the big shots in the capital market will definitely step in to acquire Zhourui. If you were the boss, what would you do?” The old man walked and talked, and finally casually patted the shoulder of a high-ranking Zhourui executive who was ready to take the blame, whispering to him, “You’ll be the one to go to jail for him, and he’ll sell the company and run away. If he’s kind-hearted, he might fulfill the promises he made to you. But if it were me… You’ve already admitted guilt, so what does it have to do with me?”
*A defense tactic also known as the shareholder rights plan. It allows existing shareholders to buy newly issued stocks at a discount if one shareholder has bought more than a stipulated percentage of stock, resulting in dilution of the ownership interest of the acquiring company (hostile company trying to take over). Usually, the buyer who triggered the defense is excused from the discount. This basically aims to make the company a less attractive target (thus why it’s called a poison pill). You can learn more about hostile takeovers here.
The impeccably dressed industry elite trembled.
Although the old man intentionally lowered his voice, in the completely silent conference room, his voice, filled with sarcasm and amusement, was enough to deeply shake people’s hearts.
He implied that the high-ranking executives of Zhourui would definitely refuse to take responsibility and face protests.
“With such a big mess caused by our company, who would be willing to take it over? Won’t bankruptcy be the only way out?” someone asked, feigning concern.
“Zhourui is indeed in a mess, and in a sense, you’ve made a mess of it. But is that really the case?” The old man spoke as if listing cherished treasures. “Zhourui is not only the largest pharmaceutical company in the country, but also one of the world’s largest producers of vaccines and blood products. The R&D institutions under Zhourui have more than 30 patents for the production processes of various major disease vaccines. The sales revenue from vaccines and blood products accounts for 39% and 29% of the total pharmaceutical sales business, respectively. This means that even if your pharmaceutical department is completely ruined, the profits from the vaccine and blood product departments alone would be enticing enough.” The old man sighed. “Such a good company. If I had some money, I’d really like to dismantle it and swallow the most valuable parts.”
The old man dragged out his sigh for a long time and made chewing sounds with his mouth wide open.
The comical sound echoed in the silent conference room, and everyone continued to contemplate the seemingly random words of the old man.
Before long, it was evident from their gazes that the Zhourui employees who were prepared to take the blame were now seriously wavering in their thoughts. They just needed some assurance, and they would change their minds.
At this moment, a female researcher sitting with crossed legs in the sunlight shook her long wavy hair and asked the question that concerned everyone the most. “Even if they choose to cooperate with the police and avoid punishment, and we end up being acquired, they will still be treated as expendable. But if they take the blame for the chairman now, they can immediately receive a large sum of money. How can we say that the former choice is necessarily better than the latter?”
“You must be a research scientist to have such a lack of understanding of finance, little sister.” The old man laughed out loud and didn’t answer Feng Zhenzhen’s question.
Feng Zhenzhen widened her eyes and almost wanted to argue with this old man who was teasing them.
Seeing this, Xing Conglian intervened and spoke up.
“Thank you,” Xing Conglian said.
The old man was delighted to hear the word “thank you”. He pretended to bow to Xing Conglian and even made a gesture of removing hair.
The production supervisor withdrew his gaze from the screen, swallowed hard, and made a determined decision as he walked up to the old man, bowing and asking, “Are you suggesting that our company will ultimately be acquired by a more powerful party, and they will choose to directly acquire our shares or terminate our positions, and at that time, we will receive a severance package. So the best choice is to cooperate with the police?”
“Why are you asking me? How should I know?” The old man widened his eyes and looked at the young production supervisor as if he were looking at a lunatic. “In life, who can guarantee anything for you? It all depends on whether you have the courage to take risks.”
The production supervisor nodded at the old man and then turned to bow to Chairman Zhou, saying solemnly, “Chairman, thank you for your years of cultivation.”
After saying that, he walked toward the empty seat in the sunlight.
His posture was so upright, as if he had never been so dignified in all these years.
Just like the most classic domino effect, as the production supervisor took the 11th seat, there was suddenly a clattering sound in the meeting room—the sound of chair legs rubbing against the floor.
The employees who had been observing from their seats realized the gravity of the situation as the old man exposed the truth. They immediately rushed out of their seats like hungry wolves, trying to occupy the remaining nine vacant seats. Even the previously unmoving top executives of Zhourui Pharmaceuticals shifted in their seats, as if having different thoughts.
However, the seats were instantly taken.
The employees who missed the last opportunity looked as if they had lost their souls, standing in the vacant space in front of Xing Conglian, not knowing what to do.
“Captain Xing, can you give us another chance?”
“We are willing to testify.”
Similar pleas kept ringing out, and in that instant, the once unshakable alliance of Zhourui Pharmaceutical turned into scattered dust under the sunlight.
However, Xing Conglian remained unmoved. He looked through the gaps in the crowd and locked eyes with Chairman Zhou.
Chairman Zhou stared back at him expressionlessly, but then he suddenly let out a cold laugh and raised his hands, applauding sarcastically.
“Captain Xing, you came prepared,” he exclaimed loudly. “I now understand that what Captain Xing is interested in is not the case itself but our Zhourui Pharmaceutical!”
Upon hearing this, Wang Chao was stunned. He had encountered ruthless businessmen before, but he had never seen someone so malicious and unrepentant.
Comrade Xiao Wang’s anger surged, possibly influenced by Zhourui Pharmaceuticals’ habit of banging the table. He also stood up and cursed, “Damn, what did you just say? Watch your language!”
“Getting all worked up because you’ve been exposed; there’s no need for such embarrassment,” the Chairman sneered.
“There’s something I must say, even though it’s vulgar. First, you accused our boss of bribery, and now you’re accusing our boss of investigating your company to sabotage it for an acquisition. Even a clay figure has three points of anger. If you continue to be so shameless, we… I’ll!” Wang Chao paused abruptly as he realized that he couldn’t say, “I’ll just arrest you and beat you up.” It was inappropriate due to his public position. Comrade Xiao Wang pursed his lips, searching for the right words but finding none that sounded quite right. In the end, he could only mutter, “Damn it, if A’Chen Gege were here…”
“Indeed, it seems that law enforcement agencies don’t allow people to speak the truth anymore.” Seizing this opportunity, Chairman Zhou continued his counterattack. “Captain Xing, you casually travel in luxury cars, and your driver used to be the former CEO of Morgan Stanley*. If that’s not coming prepared, then what is?”
*An American multinational investment bank and financial services company headquartered at 1585 Broadway in Midtown Manhattan, New York City. With offices in 41 countries and more than 75,000 employees, the firm’s clients include corporations, governments, institutions, and individuals. Morgan Stanley ranked No. 61 in the 2021 Fortune 500 list of the largest United States corporations by total revenue.
Nol concentrated and carefully selected “No” with utmost care. He had a premonition that if he let Teest know, the guy would definitely laugh out loud.
He no longer appreciated the deliciousness of breakfast and ate distractedly.
After the meal, Nol asked Mrs. Petty for a leather cord. He wore the wedding ring given to him by the system on his chest, hidden deep in the fabric. Neither he nor Teest had put it on their ring fingers. Teest’s ring had always been in that little pouch, never seeing the light of day.
Ever since returning to the novice village, apart from occasionally jokingly calling him “honey”, Teest never mentioned the farcical marriage. At this moment, Teest was in the backyard, milking Mrs. Petty’s ewes.
This sheep’s milk would be sold to the village bakery, where it would be turned into delicious cheeses, pastries, and candies.
Nol leaned against the window, looking at the scenes within the novice village, his eyes as soft as a wanderer returning home.
The village was lush and green, with chirping birds. The roads were soft and muddy, lined with wildflowers, with no muddy feel. Farmers carried hoes, merchants drove carts, adults busied themselves with daily life, while children played carefree.
Some villagers passed by the window, always slowing down to nod kindly to Nol, even though they had never seen him.
Everyone had a satisfied smile, giving an almost unreal sense of perfection.
He created the village, and now he was a part of it.
Nol knew the location of every tall tree in the village, just as he knew there was a bakery 200 steps from Mrs. Petty’s house. At the end of the road in front of her house was the village’s only tavern. The tavern’s proprietress liked to wear bright orange-yellow, and her husband always wore a silk tie, trying to imitate the gentlemen of the big city.
Unfortunately, there was no bread for breakfast, Nol thought. The honey bread in the novice village was delicious. They had designed it meticulously so.
……
Not long after breakfast, Bly came with two bottles of wine, seemingly afraid that Teest would run away. Teest wasn’t surprised by Bly’s attitude and made one request—
“I want to bring him.” He pointed to Nol.
“That’s fine. Barto probably won’t mind the NPC,” Bly responded readily.
Nol was a bit puzzled by the abrupt statement. Not until they walked into the tavern at the end of the road and saw Barto by the table.
She was a very beautiful girl. The interior of the tavern wasn’t large, and she shone brightly, drawing the eyes of nearly half of the patrons.
She had curled golden hair, a proud figure, and delicate features, especially those clear, green eyes, which stirred a desire to protect.
It was just Barto was dressed sloppily and clearly in a bad mood—with her head slightly lowered, a gloomy expression, and her beer glass already empty.
“Brother, I brought someone.” Bly greeted her.
Barto rolled her eyes. “Why did you bring two?”
Bly was indifferent to her attitude and sat down next to Barto. “The other is an NPC. Teest took on a quest.”
“Oh.” Barto glanced at Nol with little interest and quickly looked away.
“I heard from Bly that you guys are planning to leave today,” Teest said with a smile.
Barto let out a dry laugh, fidgeting with the gold earring on her left ear. “Yeah, it’s not good to always stay in the novice village. Anyway, I’m getting used to this body now.”
Nol’s face remained calm, but he took a deep breath inside—apparently, his recent suspicions about Teest were justified. It seemed that Barto was a male player using a female avatar.
He took the opportunity to survey the tavern but didn’t see the orange-yellow proprietress and her bow-tied husband. So he just looked away, pretending to be invisible.
Once the conversation started, the three players chatted casually. Nol noticed that when more people were present, Teest spoke less. This didn’t make him seem introverted; he still appeared cheerful, just spending more time listening.
Like right now.
“…Damn it, there’s no hope for rescue now.”
Barto drank her second glass of wine, sounding quite annoyed.
“Remember those guys who quit the game? I went to the forest yesterday, and they all came out of the giant view. This doesn’t seem like a successful exit. If they really did leave, it’s been so long, there should have been official news by now.”
She sighed deeply, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol.
Bly patted her shoulder. “Let’s think positively. At least we’re immortal here. Death just means a decrease in levels… Just hang in there and don’t actively quit.”
“It’s easy for you to say. It’s not that it won’t hurt just because we won’t die. Yesterday, you were scalded by the pot and screamed for a good five minutes.”
“I suggest you find a safe place to stay. It might be safer,” Teest said after taking a sip of his iced fruit vinegar.
Barto, slightly drunk, slammed the table and shouted, “Safe? What the hell do you know about safety? I, hic, can only join a big guild, the kind others can’t mess with. I have to…”
She didn’t finish her sentence and passed out, her head hitting the table.
Bly looked conflicted.
“I’ll give him a detoxifying herb later,” he said with a forced smile, looking at the unconscious Barto. “We’re leaving anyway, so let me explain. Boss, Barto really didn’t mean anything against you.”
Teest just sipped his iced fruit vinegar without replying.
Bly took a deep breath and continued, “You’ve been soloing*, so you might not know. Despite his appearance now, Barto was the strongest and most troublesome among the three of us when we first started playing. He would mess around quite a bit when we first entered the game.”
*See author’s note.
“He would flirt with other guys, saying something like ‘let the brothers have some fun’. He also used this avatar to prank—or rather, harass—actual female players. Then, in a few days, strange incidents like ‘death after quitting’ happened, and the ‘intimate contact protection’ and ‘pain protection’ mechanisms failed.”
Nol slowed his cheese cutting, taking this new information seriously.
“Pain protection” was self-explanatory, and “intimate contact protection” was one of the most critical mechanisms in “Tahe”.
It strictly prohibited any intimate contact beyond friendship for underage players or underage characters. Adult players also had the clear right to refuse—if one party was unwilling to continue, they could stop the interaction and physically push the other party away.
The malfunction of “intimate contact protection” was a significant safety incident that the game operators couldn’t ignore.
Every time he guessed that “this isn’t a game”, the game system would intervene. But when he believed that “this is just a game”, unexplained incidents increased.
At the wooden table, Bly continued to talk—
“After knowing we couldn’t leave, some, well, started treating him like a woman. One night, a jerk sneaked into our house, and he…”
Bly’s round face scrunched up.
“Anyway, that guy didn’t succeed. Barto killed him on the spot, and he lost a level. As a result, that guy made a fuss everywhere, saying ‘it doesn’t matter since we’re all guys’, demanding public justice. Afterwards, Barto started showing signs of, um, PTSD.”
“Guilds that only recruit female players don’t want him either. To be honest, I can totally understand those girls. Latus thought he was making a big deal out of it and causing problems, so they had a big fight, and then Latus left first… Even though Barto is a bit uncouth, we’ve known each other for so many years, so I can’t just leave him alone.”
“So that’s what happened.” Teest took a bite of the roasted flatbread, making his voice muffled.
“That’s the story. I apologize on his behalf. Don’t take it to heart.” Bly raised his cup, looking a bit brighter.
“Let’s get to the point—actually, I’m still in contact with Latus. He recently joined the Temple of Life. Over there, in the big cities, they provide food and accommodation, and there are elite Players to help level up. Even if Players don’t want to join, the Temple will offer help for free. Brother, if you run into trouble in the future, you can try reaching out to them.”
“I’ll consider it.” Teest nodded politely.
“We’re heading to the capital of Gemino. It’ll probably take half a month.” Bly reverted to a casual tone. “What about you? Any plans?”
Teest didn’t answer, turning his gaze to Nol.
“We’re heading south. I want to go back to my hometown,” Nol answered quickly.
In fact, before being cursed, he had several “hometowns” in mind, ready to fabricate as needed. But to solve the problem of the marriage contract along the way, he only has one option left—
The southern alliance country of Shidina.
…If it was still called the Shidina Alliance.
“So, I need to go to the south,” Teest continued.
“Alright, I hope we meet again. It would be even better if we could meet in person outside the game,” Bly said with a hint of melancholy.
“Hope to see you again.”
Teest took out six gold wheels from his waist pouch and pushed them in front of Bly.
Bly was taken aback, quickly waving his hands. “Come on, brother, you don’t have to!”
“Consider it a farewell gift.” Teest smiled. “Wishing you a smooth journey.”
……
After eating the detoxifying herb, Barto sobered up almost immediately. Bly and Barto sat on a merchant’s open carriage and drove into the boundless grassland. The carriage was like a small boat in a green sea, gradually disappearing from view as it moved over the rolling hills.
“Let’s go back. I need to cook meat soup for Mrs. Petty.” Teest stretched lazily, still smelling of lamb chops and fruit drinks.
Nol softly hummed in agreement.
With the intelligence from the Players, not only were his doubts not dispelled, but more questions accumulated in his heart.
With this inexplicable Temple of Life focusing on Players, Nol decided not to reveal his identity for the time being—after all, the Players had no way of leaving here. Fortunately, as long as they didn’t log out of the game, they wouldn’t truly “die”. Their need for information wasn’t urgent.
However, his monster neighbors weren’t like the Players. They didn’t have immortal bodies.
‘I should prioritize rescuing the neighbors,’ Nol thought.
“I want to stay here for a few more days,” Teest said, his silvery hair shimmering in the sunlight. “The air is so fresh, and the sheep’s milk is delicious.”
Nol was succinct. “I hope we can leave as soon as possible.”
“Alright, tomorrow? The day after? Anyway, not today. I need to let Mrs. Petty know in advance.”
In fact, Nol liked it here very much. The “novice village” instinctively made him feel safe. If it wasn’t crucial to find his compatriots, he wouldn’t mind staying here with Teest for a month or two.
And indeed, the sheep’s milk was delicious, he thought. Even if the attached skill was a bit odd, he wanted to taste it again.
Sadly, this little wish didn’t come true.
That night at midnight.
Teest curled up, leaning against the wall, sleeping quietly on the straw. As an undead, Nol didn’t need sleep. He played with the Dragon Corpse Notebook, trying to find a loophole in the curse.
[All players have left the novice village.]
The system’s sweet voice suddenly echoed.
[The novice village is about to close. Warning, the novice village is about to close.]
The author has something to say:
Hehe（?
On second thought, these two might be the most unfortunate protagonists I’ve started with _(:з」∠)_
————————————
Note: Solo Players refers to those who prefer to play alone in multiplayer games. I feel such people are either socially anxious or experts, or socially anxious experts (…).
Kinky Thoughts:
Note: In cases like Barto, where the avatar is female while the real player is male, I’ll use the corresponding gender based on what is being referenced. In this case, Barto will be female, but when speaking about him, she’ll be male.
Teest moved to the edge of the steps, fishing out a long sword from the stagnant water.
Its hilt was roughly wrapped in a gray cloth strip stained with old blood. Apart from that, there were no decorations or inscriptions on the sword. The blade was grayish, covered in scratches, and small notches were visible on its edge, looking very much like a cheap weapon no one wanted in the marketplace.
But Nol could recognize it.
[Betrayer: It’s automatically bound upon pickup. The owner will change their profession to the special profession: “Fallen Knight”. The weapon can switch between two custom forms, and its attributes grow with the owner’s level.
※ First clear special reward. Only usable by knights; not tradable.]
“Attributes growth” sounded impressive, but it was merely to ensure that players didn’t abandon this signature weapon as they level up. Assuming the top-tier weapon for each level range was scored at 100 points, the “Betrayer” was probably rated around 90. It was certainly exceptional, but there was a gap compared to the truly top-tier items.
Its real advantage was the ability to “switch between two forms”. The element of surprise when changing weapons during a battle could be easily imagined.
From its appearance to its characteristics, it was full of deception and disguise. This was the origin of the name “Betrayer”.
“I didn’t mean to hide it from you. I just wanted to clean it up first,” Teest explained, seeing Nol’s prolonged silence.
He didn’t need to explain. Nol nodded, showing he didn’t mind. As long as the “special team” effect was active, they couldn’t harm each other.
“It can switch between two forms.” Teest swung the sword and added, “I like how it looks. The more harmless a weapon appears, the better.”
“What do you want as the second form besides a long sword?” Nol asked.
A long sword was a balanced choice; the second form would ideally be a “greatsword” or a “spear.” The former was all about overpowering with weight, while the latter could confuse the enemy’s perception of “combat distance”.
“I’ve chosen,” Teest said as the long sword vanished like a phantom. He raised his hand to show his partner the other form of the “Betrayer”—
A plain-looking small hunting knife; the blade was only as long as a palm.
Nol’s lips twitched.
Such a small knife could hardly be considered a weapon. It was too short and only suitable for skinning, cutting meat, chopping twigs, or slicing vines. Using it for the “Betrayer’s” attributes seemed like a cruel waste.
He didn’t quite get Teest’s gaming style. The guy was always scheming in battles but seemed even more relaxed than casual gamers at other times.
“My hunting knife always goes dull after skinning a few times.” Teest caressed the “Betrayer” fondly, even trying it on his waist.
“Look, it suits me so well,” he said with a smile.
Nol didn’t have the time to respond. He was busy sorting through the loot. After regaining his physical form, his senses were much sharper. It was damp and cold here, and he was extremely fatigued, only having a moldy curtain covering him. The lower part of the curtain was soaked and felt heavy.
Fortunately, the rest of the loot wasn’t hard to find. They were on the storage shelves near the throne.
He discovered a pot full of gold coins in a delicate ceramic jar, enough for them to spend lavishly for several years. Beside the jar was a box containing a few ancient pieces of jewelry. The blood-red gems shimmered against the gold, untouched by the passage of time.
Teest grabbed the “Betrayer” and quickly turned a darker-colored curtain into a bag—this pitiable person abandoned by “God” apparently couldn’t deposit the money into the system. Weighing the heavy gold, Teest’s expression was somewhere between happy and troubled.
Nol didn’t stop his search. As a high-level hidden dungeon, the rewards couldn’t be just money.
Sure enough, opening the armor closest to the throne, he found a notebook.
The notebook, roughly the size of a B5, was about five centimeters thick. Its pages were thick and yellowed with age, with a cover decorated with hard black scales. The corners of the notebook were wrapped in a dull silver metal, while the spine was embedded with a milky-white gem.
The environment was damp, causing the pages to warp slightly, exuding the unique bitter scent of old books.
[Lich Valdorlock’s Research Notes: An ancient dragon-skin notebook, a precious legacy of the Dark Age. Lich Valdorlock claimed it and used a secret script to record his lifelong knowledge. This item is only to be turned in to the Temple of Life, where the contributor’s intelligence attribute will permanently increase by 10%.
※First clear special reward. Only for holy professions.]
“Why is a lich’s thing restricted to a holy profession?” Teest was a bit dissatisfied. They, being a Lich and a Fallen Knight, seemed to be the antithesis of holiness.
Maybe they should sell it.
As Teest pondered, he saw Nol place the notebook on the throne and conjure a fireball.
“…Why?!”
“Shh,” Nol said. “Just watch.”
In the flames, the notebook remained unscathed, with only faint black smoke coming out. Once the flames died down, Nol flipped through it—the pages were clean, with not a single word left.
“The writings have been burned off.” Nol closed the notebook with satisfaction.
The notebook, made of dragon scale, dragon tooth, and dragon-skin paper, had edges inlaid with incredibly expensive ancient silver. The real value was the notebook itself. To him, the Lich’s lifelong knowledge was as worthless as the wrapper of a chocolate bar.
He decided to keep it, not wanting to give it to that so-called Temple of Life.
Teest silently looked at the notebook—
[Dragon Corpse Notebook: A blank dragon-skin notebook, a precious relic of the Dark Age, made by an unknown craftsman. It has many uses. Please try them out at your leisure. Remember, do not let dragons see it.]
“I need this notebook. All the money is yours.” Nol held the notebook close. “Actually, that’s not enough. I’ll think of a way to compensate you further.”
“I don’t mind. What do you plan to do with it?” Teest asked out of curiosity.
“I haven’t decided.”
“……”
The two chatted sporadically as they headed for the exit—a bright white halo appeared in the center of the main hall, swaying gently like the shadow of the moon in a pool.
Before leaving, Teest paused, looking in the direction where the Lich had disappeared.
“What’s wrong?”
“It worshiped its master crazily,” Teest mused. “Yet it didn’t even know its master’s name. It’s a bit sad, isn’t it?”
“…Perhaps.”
‘It’s not the Lich’s fault,’ Nol thought. For the sake of simplification, these underground palaces were all owned by “nameless kings in the era of turmoil”.
From the beginning, he never gave the Lich’s master a name. How could the Lich remember something that didn’t exist?
……
The mountain road was as challenging as ever. By the time they reached Three Forks Road Village, it was already two days later.
The small mountain village lay quietly in the mountains, surrounded by a clear blue sky and lush green meadows. The weather was perfect, and the wind carried the scent of grass and sunshine, relaxing anyone nearby.
“Big brother*! You’re finally back!” As soon as Teest stepped into the village, a bullet-like shadow rushed at him.
*[Da Ge] (大哥) Term used to address an older male or someone with higher status or seniority. Depending on context, it could also refer to a gang leader or the boss of a group.
It was a chubby cute teenager with round brown eyes and a mop-like head of hair.
He also wore a gold earring in his left ear, another Player.
“Good afternoon, Bly.” Teest dodged the flying teenager, who almost landed face-first.
Bly stood firm, cursing under his breath. He quickly noticed Nol and his gaze immediately focused on his left ear.
“Why did you bring an NPC back? There are NPCs out in the wilderness?” he exclaimed in astonishment. “Damn, this guy is handsome. His quest must be rare.”
“He’s right here. Don’t be so blunt,” Teest said.
“They don’t care,” Bly responded with a cheeky smile. “They only care about their own quests.”
Teest shrugged, deftly changing the subject. “Where’s Barto?”
“He’s on a quest at the blacksmith’s. We have to find some way to make a living,” Bly said. “Actually, we both thought about leaving… Seriously, you won’t come with us?”
“You guys are close. It’d be awkward with a stranger around. Besides, I have other places to go,” Teest replied, avoiding mentioning the curse on him.
“But you’re an expert!” Bly whined. “If Barto didn’t want to join the guild, I’d definitely choose to cling to you. Boss, at least add me as a friend.”
Teest just laughed. “My friend list is full. I’ll add you first when there’s a chance… Let’s not talk about this for now. I need to find some clothes for our friend here.”
“We’re leaving tomorrow. At least let’s have a meal together,” Bly said with a dejected look.
“Sure.”
This Bly seemed like a “normal Player” in Nol’s impression, making him somewhat touched. Another Player would arrive tomorrow, perhaps offering a chance for help.
“By the way, the Temple of Life has been searching for Players like us. They offer quite a good deal,” Bly shouted from behind. “Let’s discuss it in detail at tomorrow’s meal!”
Nol immediately shelved the idea of seeking help.
The Temple of Life is searching for Players? What does that mean?
It wasn’t until Teest handed him a set of clothes that Nol snapped back to reality. He found himself in a small log cabin. The walls were made of logs, with a few wooden stools stacked against them. The floor was covered with gray pebbles, and two wooden buckets full of clean water sat nearby, with a cloth next to them for convenience.
“Before changing, we should probably wipe ourselves down.” Teest pointed at the buckets. “There’s no hot water here, but I guess a ‘Lich’ won’t catch a cold.”
Teest also held a stack of clean clothes. He put them down and began to strip, wringing out the wet cloth.
His movements were natural and relaxed, showing no awkwardness. Now, Nol was certain, this guy must also be male in real life.
Teest’s body was well-proportioned, befitting the “Knight” class. But he had no scars, unlike real warriors. However, his clothes usually hid his physique, making him look less like a combatant.
Nol averted his gaze, and the two sat on separate stools, back-to-back, cleaning themselves.
“That guy just now is Bly. He came here with Barto and Latus. They were roommates before, very close,”
Teest chatted as they washed themselves.
“Latus is the strongest and left with a large team some time ago. Bly and Barto stayed here, perhaps because they’re too young and not mentally prepared yet,”
Nol: “……”
Sorry, Bly. This “NPC” not only understands you but knows the jokes you’re making—Lettuce, butter, and bread, right? Just missing a slice of ham*.
*Clarity: The joke here is their names. Bly (布莱) (bread/rye), Barto (巴托) (butter), Latus (拉图斯) (lettuce). See author’s notes.
But he didn’t miss the point. “Mentally prepared?”
Teest wrung out the water from his long hair. “Yeah, everyone faced an unexpected situation—no one can contact the outside world or go home.”
Hopefully, it wasn’t the rumored “disappearing logout button”. Nol held back his questions and silently dressed.
“Anyway, they all left this place, hoping to try their luck elsewhere,” Teest commented. “You know, that outfit suits you.”
Nol had discarded the curtain robe he had worn before. Now, he wore a dark gray linen tunic and trousers similar to Teest’s, and though the boots on his feet were worn, they were clean and odorless.
The realism of this mundane life was so strong that Nol almost forgot he was a “monster”.
Teest quickly changed into his clothes. His outfit was similar to before, except that the small hunting knife around his waist had quietly been replaced with the “Betrayer”.
“Given the troubles, it would be better to be with others, right?” Nol adjusted the creases of his clothes. “Yet, you stayed till the end.”
“There are downsides to having too many people around.” Teest smiled without continuing the topic.
That night, the two stayed at the farmhouse.
The owner of the farmhouse was Mrs. Petty, a tall and sturdy shepherdess. She had bright red hair and a striking hawkish nose, with freckles all over her face, which was always taut. It was rumored her husband was away doing business, leaving her and their young son—who was still in swaddling clothes and couldn’t speak yet.
Her house was quite spacious, with many chores to do. Teest helped Mrs. Petty chop wood, cook, milk, and slaughter sheep. In exchange, she provided him with a permanent place to stay.
Teest’s room was an empty space covered with straw, which was dry and soft to lie on. Seeing Teest bring someone else, Mrs. Petty just nodded without saying much.
“She might look fierce, but she’s actually nice,” Teest said before sleeping. “In the morning, there’s sheep’s milk, eggs, and smoked meat. As long as I cook well, she never minds how much I use.”
He was right. The next morning, their plates were piled with fried eggs and smoked meat, and a big pot of hot sheep’s milk with sugar was placed on the table. Mrs. Petty took her portion and went back to her room, usually eating beside her baby.
The fried eggs were soft and white, with the yolk perfectly solidified. The smoked meat, sprinkled with spices, had slightly charred edges, giving off an aromatic scent. Nol poured himself a glass of sheep’s milk, feeling overwhelmed.
For the past few days, he had been busy controlling his glowing eyes, and Teest’s beef jerky was awfully hard, leaving no appetite. Anyway, a Lich wouldn’t die if they didn’t eat, so Nol didn’t eat at all. After his previous life as a will-o’-wisp, he had almost forgotten the joy of eating.
Having a physical body was wonderful. He hadn’t tasted such delicious food in a long time.
Unfortunately, this good mood didn’t last long—
As Nol forked a piece of fried egg, chewed it slowly, and took a sip of the rich and sweet sheep’s milk, a system notification popped up in front of him.
[Heretical Devour [Beginner] has been activated. Successfully acquired the following skills—]
[Crowing: Passive skill. The user can sense sunrise and scream in the early morning.]
[Milk Production: After using, the user will quickly produce 200 mL of milk.]
[Do you want to save the above skills? [Saved skills: 0/3]]
Nol stared at the notification blankly as his fork clattered onto the table.
The author has something to say:
Certain skills are better left unlearned. If these are learned, this novel can’t be posted on JJ…
Nol: This can be added to the top 3 terrifying events since my transmigration.
————
Note: This is a roommate’s game joke, from the internet; the keyword is “bread knight”.
And the “disappearing logout button” is a nod to SAO (Sword Art Online).
The seminar had finally reached a crucial point. Xing Conglian found it hard to sit up straight and looked at Xiao Zhan.
Wang Chao also nudged Mr. Xiao Zhan and asked, “What is an isomer?”
Xiao Zhan initially flipped through the previous test data in a panic, but when he was suddenly called upon, he began reciting somewhat hesitantly, “Isomerism refers to the phenomenon where compounds have the same molecular formula but different structures. Isomers with the same molecular formula but different structures are called structural isomers. For example, the molecular structure of optical isomers* is very similar to the compound itself, to the extent that their melting and boiling points are often the same. They can usually be observed using physical methods.”
*Two or more forms of a compound which have the same structure but are mirror images of each other and typically differ in optical activity.
“After mixing isomers, can the effect of a drug change?” Xing Conglian asked.
“It’s possible. For example, chiral isomers are widely present in nucleic acids and proteins within the human body, and most drugs also exhibit chirality*,” someone explained to Xing Conglian. “There is a drug called levodopa used for Parkinson’s disease, and its D-isomer can cause optic neuritis and lead to blindness.”
*When two isomers that are mirror image of each other. They have the same chemical properties except when reacting with other chiral compounds.
Furthermore, the young man who had walked out earlier added, “Several decades ago, an isomer incident involving thalidomide* caused severe teratogenic reactions in pregnant women.”
*Drug use to treat a number of cancers and many skin disorders (mainly leprosy). When it was first released in 1957 in West Germany, it wasn’t tested on pregnant women and resulted in major birth defects and the deaths of many babies, leading to its removal from the market in 1961. This led to greater drug regulation and monitoring in many countries.
“But during our TERN experiments, no adverse isomers were produced. It shouldn’t be our fault.” Feng Zhenzhen pushed Li Zheng and grew anxious. “Professor Li…”
Li Zheng remained silent for a long time, and his silence caused all the researchers around him to quiet down.
In contrast, the other Zhourui employees opposite of them looked at the researchers who had taken the initiative with a gaze that seemed to say, “We knew this would happen.”
“Speaking of which, I still find it unbelievable that such a thing occurred.” Li Zheng pushed his golden-rimmed glasses, and his face became filled with disappointment and weariness.
Wang Chao anxiously looked at the scientist who was the first to speak out, unsure of what to say. “Well, this… it’s not your fault either.”
“In fact, the absence of a TERN isomer suggests there may have been some oversight in our development process, but I’m not trying to shift the blame because I’m certain that, according to the pharmaceutical formulation we provided, it would be impossible for adverse isomers to appear.” Li Zheng finally looked up, his gaze becoming calm and cold. “Considering the series of process improvement proposals put forward by Shen Lian, it’s likely that our company ‘optimized’ the pharmaceutical process to save costs, resulting in the production of a small amount of optical isomers in TERN through the optimized process. However, due to negligence in quality control or deliberate concealment by the factory, these isomers were not discovered.”
“Li Zheng, speak with evidence. Are you trying to shift the blame onto our production team?” The supervisor in charge of pharmaceutical production at Zhourui Pharmaceutical angrily rebuked.
The chubby researcher next to Professor Li stood up abruptly and slammed the process optimization report on the table. He was visibly angry and pointed at the other person. “Then tell me, with your chest held high, that you thoroughly checked the purity of each batch of drugs after process optimization. Dare you say that there are absolutely no optical isomers in Nao Kangning?!”
“Just because you’re being aggressive doesn’t mean you’re right!” The deputy general in charge of production also stood up and slammed the table.
“Tsk.” Feng Zhenzhen, sitting with her legs crossed, sneered, “Then please clearly tell us, does it exist or not?” Before the other person could respond, Feng Zhenzhen didn’t give him a chance. “Let me come up with an excuse for you. Either you didn’t conduct isomer testing at all, or when the drug problems arose, you detected the isomers, but their quantity was minimal. Separation and purification would require substantial costs. So, you simply conducted simple drug tests during production, found no major issues, and covered up the matter. However, as adverse reaction cases increased and TERN was shared through patents, you were afraid of being held accountable, so you came up with the method of replacing the old drug with a new one.” The female researcher continued, putting down her leg and sitting up straight. “Although we now know that TERN has a problem and can quickly deduce the presence of isomers, the pharmaceutical process is very complex. Even if you investigated it accurately while being deliberately concealed, you had a whole eight years. If anyone among you had the courage to come forward and say we should cut off the limb rather than choose concealment, how could the situation have evolved to what it is now?”
Wang Chao was stunned by everything he had heard so far and interjected, “But I remember that we were able to discover the issues with the old and new drugs because Zhourui was replacing the manufacturer. Doesn’t that imply they also didn’t know how the isomers were produced? Otherwise, Shen Lian wouldn’t have been able to hide until now?”
“There’s one explanation.”
A deep voice resounded. Xing Conglian, who had been quiet all along, suddenly spoke.
Wang Chao turned to look at his boss, and his boss’s cold gaze fell upon the chubby figure of the chairman of Zhourui Pharmaceutical. In that instant, it was as if the most cunning hunter had finally caught sight of his prey’s vulnerability.
Xing Conglian spoke slowly, composedly, and unrushed. “Now, let’s hear Chairman Zhou’s answer. Is it true that the person responsible for secretly conducting investigations into the issues with the Nao Kangning drug is Shen Lian?”
Wang Chao was momentarily stunned but quickly understood the question at hand.
Zhourui Pharmaceutical knew there was a problem with Nao Kangning, but they had never discovered that Shen Lian was the one behind it. If it wasn’t due to the incompetence of the investigator, then the most likely explanation was that the person in charge of the investigation was Shen Lian herself.
Her boss had posed an extremely tricky question, implying: If you admit that the person conducting the investigation is Shen Lian, then it means your company had discovered the adverse reactions of Nao Kangning long ago but failed to report it, allowing a toxic drug to circulate in the market.
“I am not aware of any investigation regarding the Nao Kangning drug mentioned by Captain Xing.”
Chairman Zhou could no longer control his facial expression, and Wang Chao couldn’t fathom how this cunning old man could still attempt to argue.
It seemed as though Xing Conglian had been waiting for this moment.
His sharp gaze fell upon the faces of the high-level Zhourui executives who had dared to stand out and berate others. He casually said, “Since the chairman is unaware, then let those below speak up.”
He pointed at the production supervisor. “Let’s start with the production department. Did you ever discover the issue with isomers? Did you choose to conceal it for the sake of your own job security without reporting it to the company’s higher-ups?”
The production supervisor and deputy general never expected Xing Conglian to so easily bypass the chairman and target them directly. They dared not look at anyone, and beads of cold sweat seemed to drip from their foreheads.
“It’s not that complicated. There are two choices: to shoulder the responsibility or not.” Xing Conglian maintained his calm tone, but his meaning was thought-provoking.
Upon hearing this, the anxious man instinctively looked up, glancing at the remaining ten empty seats. He subconsciously placed his hand on the table, as if about to stand up.
His action was noticed by another executive sitting beside him, who immediately stopped him.
The person shook his head gently.
“They won’t say anything, will they? They’re all in cahoots! Everything is documented in the meeting records. With cross-examination, we’ll be able to find out the truth!” This reaction somehow ignited Li Zheng’s anger. The scientist picked up a pen and pointed at someone who had spoken during the previous discussion. “You’re right. The key question is why the project for improving the drug was suddenly initiated. If it was a normal project for drug improvement, and Tan Kang changed the TERN configuration for the purpose of improving its ingredients, without the company’s knowledge, then it was solely Shen Lian’s doing. Our company would also be a victim and bear the responsibility for regulatory oversight. On the contrary, if our company collected clinical feedback, became aware of the drug’s issues, and concealed the truth for certain reasons, allowing a harmful drug to spread…” Li Zheng looked at the chairman, even expressing some pain. “From 2008 to 2016, a whole eight years, all of you were accomplices in covering up the crime for personal gain. You are murderers!”
Li Zheng’s words were like the final straw that broke the camel’s back, causing the production supervisor mentioned by Xing Conglian to tremble like a sieve.
Witnessing this reaction, Wang Chao believed a confession was within reach, and Zhourui was about to collapse.
However, Wang Chao watched helplessly as the man wiped the sweat from his forehead, his smile filled with extreme bitterness. In the most desperate tone, he said, “What can I do? It’s just that I failed to report it upward. I… I had a secret romantic relationship with Shen Lian… I was her accomplice…”
The meeting room exploded, and everyone looked in shock at the production supervisor, who had voluntarily confessed.
“Fucking hell!” Feng Zhenzhen was the first to curse.
In the chaotic environment, no one noticed the abnormality on a few seats scattered among the hundred-member team of Zhourui Pharmaceutical. Some people appeared crestfallen but clenched their hands into fists as if determined.
“Are you an idiot?” Wang Chao frustratedly cursed.
At that moment, another executive stood up as well. “I am also guilty. I failed to fulfill my supervisory duties, resulting in such serious consequences, yet I chose to conceal the truth. I cannot absolve myself of blame.”
Wang Chao looked at the madman-like gaze shifting to the person who had just confessed.
However, the admission of guilt by the senior executives at Zhourui didn’t stop there. Along with the production supervisor’s confession, several other responsible individuals stood up, confessing their own crimes. Some even walked up to the police officers after speaking, extending their hands to be handcuffed.
Meanwhile, some higher-ranking individuals remained silent, observing their subordinates confessing with cold eyes.
The police officers exchanged looks, somewhat bewildered, and could only turn to Xing Conglian, awaiting guidance from the one in control.
“You… Why are you all so stupid!” Wang Chao nearly overturned his computer in frustration.
At this point, a triumphant smile finally appeared on the chairman’s face. He curved his chubby lips slightly and looked at Xing Conglian. The previously feigned anxiety and nervousness were gone. He seemed to have a complete grasp of the situation, as if he had already prepared for every possible outcome. Everything was developing in the direction he had anticipated.
Ever since entering the office, Xing Conglian had been relatively silent. Now, faced with the chairman’s true provocation, he didn’t argue or persuade. He simply picked up his phone and sent a text message.
Before long, the back door of the conference room was kicked open with a bang.
An old man, holding a urinary bag, stood at the doorway, shouting at the top of his lungs, “Young nephew, what do you want from me? Is everything settled? My urinary bag is almost full. I’ll have to go to the hospital later.”
Everyone in the conference room looked toward the door as if they had seen a ghost, laying eyes on a thin, elderly man with a prosthetic leg.
The old man also noticed that there were so many people in the conference room, and his tone immediately changed when he spoke to Xing Conglian. He became extremely obsequious and said, “Boss, what can I do for you?”
Only then did everyone recall that this old man was seemingly the driver of the sports car from before. If he was indeed Captain Xing’s driver, then this police captain had an incredibly formidable background.
Faced with those questioning and puzzled gazes, Xing Conglian didn’t explain much. He politely asked the old man, “I have a question to ask you.”
“I will speak all that I know without reservation!” the old man said. “If you let me play outside for a couple more hours, I’ll even tell you my bank card password.”
“The current situation is like this: I offered lenient punishment to some middle-level employees who made mistakes. But why do they prefer to take the blame for the highest level of the company rather than accepting my goodwill?” Xing Conglian asked.
Upon hearing this question, the old man looked at Xing Conglian as if he had seen a ghost, wearing an expression that seemed to say, “You clearly know the answer, so why are you asking me?”
“You stay out of this,” Li Zheng impatiently reprimanded. The chief engineer of Zhourui’s most renowned laboratory seemed completely immersed in the investigation of the drug issue and didn’t even notice his boss’s dark expression.
Chairman Zhou didn’t speak further; he simply looked deeply at his once most trusted research staff.
The atmosphere in the room became even more somber, and some of the pharmaceutical researchers followed Li Zheng’s lead and began to think quickly.
The more silence there was, the more the management team sensed the unfavorable atmosphere in the room. Some perceptive employees rushed to defend their boss. “Professor Li, I’ll say something blunt. Chairman Zhou didn’t mention it, wanting to save face for you, but in this three-stage analysis and the problem with TERN, aren’t you the most suspicious one?”
This was a very serious accusation, but Li Zheng didn’t care at all. He didn’t even have the interest to argue.
The person wanted to say more but was interrupted by a female researcher from the Nao Kangning team. “Manager Wang, Nao Kangning is a project from more than a decade ago. To thoroughly investigate the development issues, there are hundreds of thousands of compounds involved in the initial screening alone. The specific experimental process is incredibly complex, and it involves hundreds or thousands of researchers. Do we have so much time now?”
“Thorough investigation?” The person known as Manager Wang, sneered. “Feng Zhenzhen, you really have a simple mind. Didn’t you understand what the chairman said earlier? If everyone starts attacking each other, the company will surely collapse. We can only overcome this difficult situation by uniting.”
“Manager Wang’s words are quite interesting. So if we investigate the problem thoroughly, the company will collapse. No wonder you want everyone to stay silent—to hide what can be hidden, and when it can’t be hidden, find a scapegoat.” The female researcher sneered, standing up. She patted the shoulders of her two colleagues next to her and said, “Make way, I’m going out.”
“Feng Zhenzhen…”
Chairman Zhou, sitting in the center, looked at Li Zheng across from him and softly called the female researcher’s name, with a serious tone that increased the pressure.
“Chairman.” The female researcher imitated Li Zheng’s manner from earlier and said to her boss, “I’m just going to sit for a while. I don’t have any leverage against you, so you don’t have to worry.”
She was wearing a pair of mismatched sports shoes and sat next to Li Zheng with a light and brisk pace. Now, there were 18 empty seats out of the original 20.
The calm captain of the criminal investigation division, who seldom spoke, maintained his composed attitude. “And who are you?” he asked.
“Feng Zhenzhen. I was previously involved in the initial screening of compounds and later worked in the Nordren team,” Feng Zhenzhen said decisively, pointing at the manager who had just berated her. “Before you all arrived, Manager Wang warned us, the lower-level employees, not to speak recklessly in front of the police.”
“Feng Zhenzhen, please refrain from attacking others indiscriminately.”
“Oh, of course, you wouldn’t say it like that, but that’s how it sounded to me,” Feng Zhenzhen said contemptuously.
The female researcher’s gaze wandered over her colleagues sitting across from her. Each person had a different expression, and amidst the crowded seats, some looked at her coldly, some showed disdain, and others stared at the timeline on the wall as if reminiscing about something.
A woman with curly hair couldn’t bear it any longer and coldly said to Feng Zhenzhen, “How is it possible that they won’t find any problems if they continue investigating? The police just want to arrest a group of people and quell the public’s anger. Manager Wang and Chairman Zhou have already made their intentions clear! By stepping forward now and sacrificing the interests of other colleagues to satisfy your own sense of justice, you think you’re so great? So remarkable? Have you ever considered other people?”
These words also stirred up the indignation of others. The crowd became fervent, and Feng Zhenzhen became the target of criticism.
Huang Ze instinctively looked at Xing Conglian, but apart from initially arranging the 20 empty seats and announcing the rules of the game, Xing Conglian had not controlled the situation. He had been observing the development of events with a cold eye. Huang Ze felt anxious because he realized he couldn’t grasp the other’s thoughts, just as he had never been able to understand Lin Chen’s thoughts.
Feng Zhenzhen’s voice rang out, overpowering everyone else. “I’m the troublemaker who disregards collective interests. Compared to whether you all go to jail or the company goes bankrupt, what matters more is my own conscience.”
“Hypocrites always act so righteous!”
“So what? We are pharmaceutical researchers. I have to take responsibility for the products I develop and for the health of the patients who use these drugs. I don’t have time to consider you right now!”
At this point, Professor Li Zheng, who had been immersed in his thoughts, finally interrupted the female researcher next to him. “Enough. Arguing with them is meaningless. You should also think about what exactly went wrong with TERN.”
“I’ve thought about it, but I can’t figure it out. I believe that Dr. Tan Kang must have discovered something, which is why he changed the TERN configuration and mentioned in his notes that Shen Lian was poisoning people. So there must be more detailed information in his notes. What exactly did Shen Lian do, and how did she do it?” Feng Zhenzhen’s gaze fell on Comrade Xiao Wang, who was operating the computer.
Wang Chao looked frustrated as he said, “The smart electronic pen contains fragmented text. I’ve been sorting through it for a while, and it subtly mentions the drug issue and Shen Lian’s poisoning… And who the hell knows if it’s true or not…”
“What if we change our approach?” Perhaps Feng Zhenzhen’s words had an effect, as someone else spoke up in the crowded seats of Zhourui’s side. “If we investigate what Shen Lian did in the Nao Kangning and Nordren related project teams, maybe we can understand how she poisoned and what methods she used to turn our clinical trial drugs into ones with toxic side effects?”
Upon hearing this, many hostile gazes were directed at the young man who interrupted.
Researchers were either silent or very distinctive. Upon seeing this, the young man said, “Do we have to go over there to speak? Then I’ll go.”
As he spoke, he turned to a few people beside him and asked, “Do you want to come with me?”
Several young people around him stood up in unison, led by a chubby young man. He pushed past the Zhourui executives sitting on the outside and led the group to the empty seats opposite.
After they sat down, the chubby young man proactively said to Xing Conglian, “We’re not part of the Nordren team, but it’s interesting to seize the opportunity to reduce their sentences.”
Wang Chao looked at these energetic young people with his mouth agape, and muttered to himself, “The young delusion of saving the world—the ancients don’t deceive me*.”
*This a sarcastic comment that basically says how young people’s actions are somewhat delusional and overly idealistic (which is ironic since it’s coming from him).
But the other people in the meeting room completely ignored him.
Feng Zhenzhen said, “I also think so. In the three stages Professor Li just mentioned, I believe the problem lies in the second stage—specifically, the stage from obtaining approval for Nao Kangning to when the company decided to improve the drug. The work done during this stage involves collecting and tracking clinical data, which Shen Lian could have tampered with it.”
Small beads of sweat formed on Xiao Zhan’s forehead. In the presence of the beautiful female researcher, he became somewhat hesitant and stammered. “I… I also think so, but… Shen Lian submitted a lot of things, and she might have submitted proposals in the name of the team, so… I can only compile a rough timeline. I’m not really an expert in pharmaceuticals, so I can’t understand it very well…”
“You’re already amazing,” Feng Zhenzhen said to Xiao Zhan.
Mr. Xiao blushed and quickly displayed the timeline on the large screen.
2008.1 Nao Kangning receives approval
2008.1 Shen Lian joins Zhourui Pharmaceutical Factory and is responsible for the production of Nao Kangning
2008.3 Shen Lian and her team propose a series of process improvement documents, involving hundreds of reports and suggestions
↓
2011.1 Nao Kangning improvement project initiated
Li Zheng asked, “Can we take a look at the production process improvement proposals submitted by Shen Lian and her team?”
Feng Zhenzhen interjected, “Do you want them printed? I can go and make a few copies.”
At this moment, Wang Chao inexplicably glanced at Xing Conglian. He pulled out his heavy backpack from under the table, unzipped it, and revealed rows and rows of materials inside. “We’ve prepared this a long time ago.”
The young man struggled to lift the bag onto the table, and Xiao Zhan began distributing the materials. Those who received the materials quickly started reading.
The conference room was filled with the sound of flipping papers. The heated argument session unexpectedly turned into an internal discussion meeting within Zhourui.
Chairman Zhou crossed his arms and looked at Xing Conglian, as if saying, “Captain Xing, you have great tactics.”
“Exactly. This compound is indeed TERN,” Feng Zhenzhen said again. “Should I go back to the laboratory and check again?”
Li Zheng first stopped Feng Zhenzhen and asked Xiao Zhan, “What kind of tests did you perform?”
“Gas chromatography* and liquid chromatography. The fragmented pieces produced matched exactly,” Xiao Zhan replied.
*A laboratory technique for separation of a mixture into its components. The mixture is dissolved in a fluid solvent (gas or liquid) called the mobile phase, which carries it through a system (a column, a capillary tube, a plate, or a sheet) on which a material called the stationary phase is fixed. Because the different constituents of the mixture tend to have different affinities for the stationary phase and are retained for different lengths of time depending on their interactions with its surface sites, the constituents travel at different apparent velocities in the mobile fluid, causing them to separate.
“What do you mean by ‘matched exactly’? Did you simply isolate TERN from Nao Kangning, or did you reconstruct it?” asked the chubby researcher.
Suddenly caught in the crossfire, Xiao Zhan became even slower in his speech. He said, “I… I… didn’t have enough time. I… only compared it based on the structure you provided.”
“You were too hasty. A more reliable approach would be to conduct batch tests on the drug’s issues. After all, there are still many possibilities, such as interactions between various components, resulting in the formation of new toxic compounds,” Feng Zhenzhen added.
Upon hearing this, the expressions on the faces of the representatives from Zhourui improved significantly. If the police rushed their investigation, they would soon have a chance to turn the tables.
However, at that moment, Li Zheng stopped everyone from arguing and said, “Our approach to discussing the problem should not be like this. What if we accept two premises? First, the substance with severe side effects is indeed TERN, and second, there were no such severe side effects when Nao Kangning obtained approval in 2008. Assuming these two premises, we can draw a conclusion that Shen Lian did something after 2008 to cause the compound with the same structure to have toxic side effects. Let’s reason out what Shen Lian might have done.”
Under the sunlight, a young person seemed to have realized something and asked, “Professor Li, are you suggesting…”
The chubby researcher’s voice was somewhat eerie as he said, “Could it be an isomer*?”
*Are molecules or polyatomic ions with identical molecular formula–that is, same number of atoms of each element – but distinct arrangements of atoms in space. Isomers do not necessarily share similar chemical or physical properties. Two main forms of isomerism are structural or constitutional isomerism, in which bonds between the atoms differ; and stereoisomerism or spatial isomerism, in which the bonds are the same but the relative positions of the atoms differ.
“The mass spectrometry fragments are the same. If TERN is really the issue, then the possibility of an isomer is the highest!” Feng Zhenzhen said with a shudder.
Kinky Thoughts:
Usually I provide some supplement knowledge when needed, but I was pretty bad at chemistry to the point of failing, so this might not be the most accurate explanation.
An isomer is a molecule that has the same number of atoms of each element, but its chemical structure is different. For example, hydrocarbon C3H4 has three structural isomers:
I Propadiene
II Propyne
III Cyclopropene
While they have the same number of atoms (carbon and hydrogen), their structures are different, making them different compounds. This can result in different physical and chemical properties.
Relating to this case, TERN has its own chemical structural compound, but Shen Lian changed the structural compound while still keeping the same amount of atoms in TERN. This change in structure completely changes the element.
As for how to detect whether an isomer is present, I’m not sure if chromatography can do it. That’s too much science for my brain to handle.
Anyway, I’m not a chemist, so if anyone’s more knowledgeable in this area, do chime in.
Kinky Translations 