Chapter 3: Transmigration (3)

“Move!”

Sparks flew everywhere, crackling as they scattered across the ground. Wen Yingchao reacted quickly and dodged most of them, but a few stray flames still grazed him. The clothes draped over his body caught fire instantly, flames flaring up with a sudden whoosh.

Glazed fire was an inextinguishable flame.

Wen Yingchao quickly stripped off the coat Gu Mowan had given him. The flames came into contact with the embers on the ground and spread rapidly. Before he could steady himself, a fierce gust of wind came slicing toward his neck, its sharp force as cutting as a blade.

“Get over here!”

The blade-like gust barely grazed Wen Yingchao’s cheek, yet it still managed to leave a cut.

Fire burned across the ground, sending thick clouds of smoke and dust into the air.

Gu Mowan had just pulled him out of the way.

At some point, the handcuffs connecting the two of them had come undone. Breathing in short, labored gasps, Wen Yingchao looked toward the person who had just ambushed him.

That face was identical to Gu Mowan’s. It was the Gu Mowan of the past, a memory construct.

Everything inside the consciousness prison was chaotic yet vividly alive.

The memory construct’s eyes were wide open, the skin around them bloodshot. He glared fixedly at Wen Yingchao’s position, muttering, “You’re still alive. You’re not dead yet. No, this is a nightmare…”

“But it doesn’t matter. I can still deal with you in a dream. I’ll just have to do what I should have done all over again.”

After finishing his muttering, fierce winds began to swirl around him. Flames had nearly consumed every corner of the place. The dagger in the memory construct’s hand spun around as he tilted his head and studied Wen Yingchao, apparently considering where he should strike first.

A similar scene had appeared in the original novel.

Back then, unable to endure his nightmares any longer, Gu Mowan had returned to the Nether Abyss. Naturally, the place had been deserted by then. He shattered the glazed flame, and the ruins of the Nether Abyss were swallowed by raging fire. The flames burned year-round and never went out.

That period was when Gu Mowan’s mental state had been at its worst.

…Fortunately, the Nether Abyss hung suspended in the middle of the frozen sea. It was the only place where he could never find lasting peace.

Now, the consciousness prison had recreated that scene.

The only difference was that Wen Yingchao was there too.

“I hate your eyes so much. Every time I see you in my dreams, you look at me like that, making me remember…”

The memory construct stuck out his tongue and licked his lips. Then, without the slightest warning, he hurled the dagger in his hand straight at Wen Yingchao!

It moved incredibly fast. Wen Yingchao heard the sound of the blade tearing through the air.

He had no idea how he managed to dodge it.

His heart pounded wildly, hammering against his chest. Wen Yingchao turned his head just in time to see the dagger embedded in the floor beside him, missing him by a narrow margin. It was exactly like the one he had found beside the ice coffin.

The memory construct clearly hadn’t expected him to evade the attack. He froze for a brief moment.

“Run!”

Even without Gu Mowan beside him telling him to move, Wen Yingchao seized the opportunity. His movements were remarkably similar to the other man’s: he turned and dashed straight toward the data screen in the middle of the area.

He could guess that the doors in a consciousness world were the least trustworthy things to rely on. The exit was usually hidden in something unusual within the scene itself.

The glazed fire continued to burn, crackling furiously. Enduring the unbearable waves of heat, Wen Yingchao reached out toward the display screen, where the numbers continued to flicker despite the raging flames.

Just then, a faint sound came from behind him.

It sounded like a gunshot.

By this point, Wen Yingchao had no chance of turning around.

He gritted his teeth and charged forward without looking back. The pain of a bullet piercing his body, which he had expected, never came. Wen Yingchao touched the screen, and without any transition at all, the agony of being burned vanished in an instant. He fell straight to the ground, scraping his skin in the process.

His wounds began to heal rapidly.

“I give up,” Wen Yingchao panted. “What kind of ridiculous nonsense is this?”

That damn system was still playing dead, refusing to respond no matter how many times he called it.

Hadn’t it said earlier that it would provide technical assistance?! He was seriously going to file a complaint!

Before Wen Yingchao could catch his breath, another sweater was thrown at him.

The coat had been burned to ashes in the previous scene, leaving Wen Yingchao looking rather disheveled. Feeling somewhat self-conscious, he grabbed the sweater and immediately pulled it over his head without saying a word.

Gu Mowan had followed right behind him. Now, only a thin undershirt remained on the other man’s body.

Both the sweater and the undershirt were stained with large patches of blood around the right arm. The blood was still warm.

That gunshot that had suddenly fallen silent…

Gu Mowan spread his hands. “All right. Can you behave yourself now? Stop wasting time on pointless delays. I can’t take another round of that myself.”

After a pause, he added, “Wen Yingchao, you really never cease to surprise me.”

Wen Yingchao rolled his eyes so hard inwardly that they nearly reached the back of his head.

“Then stop hiding things from me unnecessarily. You should know that I don’t actually care about your identity.”

He stood up, brushed off some nonexistent dust, and faced Gu Mowan directly.

“Let me repeat the question I was interrupted from asking earlier. The owner of the prison can’t appear inside it. You’re not Gu Mowan. Who are you?”

Gu Mowan neither denied it nor answered immediately.

He studied Wen Yingchao intently for a while before suddenly bursting into laughter. He even raised a hand dramatically to wipe away the tears at the corners of his eyes.

“This is the consciousness prison, Wen Yingchao. Do you know what that means?”

Gu Mowan continued, “It means that my consciousness takes the exact form you’re seeing now. Whether you choose to admit it or not, I’m the same Gu Mowan you’ve always known. I’ve never changed.”

“I was the one who trusted you most. I was the one who killed you with my own hands. And I was the one who returned here and burned the Nether Abyss to the ground. That was the me I used to be.”

“However…” He changed the subject. “If you really want to distinguish between the past and present versions of me, such as the past me who exists as a memory construct and the present me, then you can call me by my other name.”

“Gu Yunjiang.”

He spoke so sincerely that Wen Yingchao couldn’t find a single flaw in his words or detect the slightest trace of a lie.

And that was precisely the biggest problem.

Gu Yunjiang continued, “Besides, since you’ve already said you don’t care about my identity, why bother with all these unnecessary details? Does it really matter who the person standing in front of you is?”

Wen Yingchao shook his head.

He knew that continuing to waste time with Gu Yunjiang would accomplish nothing.

Digging relentlessly for answers wasn’t in his nature, nor was it remotely compatible with the original owner’s personality.

Wen Yingchao knew when to stop. Although countless questions were still circling in his mind, he decided to exercise restraint and didn’t press the matter any further.

“Gu Yunjiang.” Wen Yingchao repeated the other man’s name. “I understand.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Gu Yunjiang still had the leisure to whistle as he swung the bloodstained handcuffs dangling from his index finger.

“I won’t use these on you anymore,” he said. “So don’t do anything reckless again.”

Wen Yingchao certainly had no desire to encounter another memory construct of Gu Mowan.

Under the influence of Sweet Nothings, he absentmindedly replied, “Mm.” Then he turned his head and saw the smile spreading across Gu Yunjiang’s brows and eyes. A sense of foreboding suddenly rose within him.

“It would be wonderful if you really knew how to behave and follow instructions,” Gu Yunjiang said.

“But then, wouldn’t that make you unlike yourself?”

Wen Yingchao couldn’t afford to let his guard down around this lunatic.

“We both know what’s going on. There’s no need for pointless remarks like that,” he said.

Gu Yunjiang sounded disinterested. “Fine. Then I’ll look forward to seeing what kind of grand gift you’ll give me later.”

His next words were spoken so softly that they sounded more like he was talking to himself. They scattered into the air, unnoticed by anyone.

“Just like last time.”

At that moment, Wen Yingchao began surveying this new space.

This time, he didn’t even need to identify the location himself. The three large characters Hall of Eternal Life were engraved on the plaque above the entrance.

Despite its grand name, the Hall of Eternal Life was nothing more than a fortune-telling shop. It had chosen an impressive name for itself, but it was tucked away in the most remote corner of the city, inconspicuous to the extreme.

Buildings of this old-fashioned style had become exceedingly rare in the modern world.

Wen Yingchao asked Gu Yunjiang, “Is the exit from this scene inside the shop?”

Despite the Hall of Eternal Life’s small size, there was no way a place visited by the protagonist could be ordinary.

The fortune-teller inside was genuinely skilled.

Wen Yingchao’s guess was correct.

Gu Yunjiang didn’t answer him directly. Instead, he was the first to push aside the curtain hanging in the doorway, revealing a pitch-black corridor inside. Looking back at Wen Yingchao, he asked, “Do you know that this shop has a rule for receiving customers?”

Of course Wen Yingchao knew.

The novel had emphasized this rule several times.

“It only accepts one customer at a time,” Wen Yingchao replied. “But it’s a trap.”

“Those who follow the rule will receive the answers they seek and become participants in the puppet game.”

“No matter how absurd or nonsensical the fortune-telling shop’s predictions may be, they will inevitably come true during this puppet game, in which the participants are manipulated at will.”

Gu Yunjiang made a gesture inviting him to enter.

“Looking back now, there are plenty of ways to solve this game. But the most straightforward approach is to break the rule from the very beginning and enter together.”

“Besides, we’re in a memory scene. Even if we don’t get to meet that fortune-teller, it’s not much of a loss, is it?”

“However…”

Gu Yunjiang suddenly lowered his voice.

“The puppet game took place in the second year after your death. Even the Hall of Eternal Life only opened after the Battle of the Nether Abyss.”

“Your consciousness has only just been revived. How could you possibly know that?”

Wen Yingchao: “…”

Holy crap. He’s tricked me into revealing information.

He stopped walking. He was now only half a step away from Gu Yunjiang. If the other man wanted to do something to him, there was absolutely no way he could dodge it.

Unless he struck first, shoved Gu Yunjiang into the shop, and forced him to enter the puppet game.

But if he did that, he’d be left alone, forfeiting his chance to get through the scene safely.

The game was an important part of the original novel, occupying a substantial portion of the story. Although Wen Yingchao knew how to solve it, he would inevitably encounter Gu Mowan’s memory construct during the game.

Whether he could even protect himself was another matter.

He thought it might be better to simply confess to Gu Yunjiang that he wasn’t from this world.

After all, the system had been dead for so long that it probably wouldn’t be coming back to life anytime soon.

And if it did come back, that would be perfect. He could settle the score with it.

Wen Yingchao opened his mouth, preparing to speak.

“Actually, I…”

“Wen Yingchao.”

Their voices overlapped. Both of them apparently had something to say.

“Let me speak first.”

Gu Yunjiang wasn’t about to show Wen Yingchao the courtesy of saying, You go first. Instead, he extended his index finger and pointed at Wen Yingchao’s lips from a short distance away.

Wen Yingchao didn’t feel like competing with him for the chance to speak. Besides, he wanted to know how Gu Yunjiang intended to expose his identity.

“Wen Yingchao,” Gu Yunjiang began, choosing his words anew. “It seems my guess was correct. Even though you know nothing about the current situation, you’re still exactly the same as you were before. You haven’t changed in the slightest.”

His words were delivered with an ambiguous, almost intimate lilt. His diction was clear and precise, making it impossible to discern what he was thinking.

“You really are hiding inside my consciousness, watching me all this time.”

Wen Yingchao: “…”

Huh?

That’s what he thinks is happening?

He stared at Gu Yunjiang in disbelief. “What on earth are you talking about?”

“Is that so strange?”

Gu Yunjiang studied him with an amused expression.

“You can’t even tell that you’re awake, and your memories are muddled. But you can learn everything about the outside world through what I see and hear. Those things are like common knowledge to us. They’re already engraved in your consciousness before you even become aware of them.”

Wen Yingchao: “…”

This is hilarious. I don’t even need to explain anything. Gu Yunjiang has come up with his own explanation for this ridiculously flawed situation.

It couldn’t be further from the truth.

He said, “Forget it. Believe whatever you want.”

Gu Yunjiang sighed theatrically. “Sigh, there’s nothing I can do about it. Your consciousness hasn’t fully recovered yet. It’s too fragile, so you can’t understand these things just yet.”

“However, there’s one more thing I need to remind you of.”

“Consciousness cannot be regenerated out of nothing. The only thing the experiment requires is the person’s own consciousness.”

The moment Gu Yunjiang finished speaking, Wen Yingchao abruptly turned around. Summoning all his strength, he shoved Gu Yunjiang straight through the curtain at the entrance of the Hall of Eternal Life and into the empty, pitch-black corridor beyond.

For a moment, the only sound around them was the faint clatter of the curtain beads colliding with one another.