Chapter 4: Transmigration (4)

Record of the Lunar Eclipse was a male-centric progression novel with no romantic pairings.

The story took place in a fantastical world where a small number of people could awaken various abilities under specific conditions. These individuals were known as Spirit-Bearers.

And you were one of them.

You would play a Spirit-Bearer in the domain of consciousness: the protagonist’s unforgettable dark moonlight, a ghost who had inexplicably returned from the dead, and the first antagonist the protagonist killed in the entire story…

“Stop!”

Wen Yingchao leaned against the wall of the dim corridor in the Hall of Eternal Life, pressing his fingers against his temples with a headache.

“Time is running out. Can’t you just get to the point?”

Wen Yingchao thought he might never forget the look in Gu Yunjiang’s eyes when he’d shoved him inside.

Shock? Disbelief? Neither.

It seemed Gu Yunjiang had anticipated that Wen Yingchao would do exactly that.

Wen Yingchao waited patiently outside the Hall of Eternal Life for quite some time. Only after he could no longer hear any movement inside did he finally push aside the curtain and enter alone.

Of course, he wasn’t trying to get himself killed by participating in some life-or-death game inside Gu Mowan’s memories.

There was something else he wanted to figure out.

Back in the ruins of the Nether Abyss, Gu Yunjiang had told him that he had come from outside and found his way here.

If Gu Yunjiang had been telling the truth, and they could leave by retracing the path he had taken to get here, then Gu Yunjiang must have reached this place and stood outside the Hall of Eternal Life before.

How had Gu Yunjiang entered the Hall of Eternal Life when he was alone?

Either he had already participated in the puppet game once, or he had lied about this particular matter.

Wen Yingchao was more inclined to believe the latter.

The consciousness prison was an intricate, ever-changing place, much like the branches and leaves of a tree. It continued to grow and transform with every passing moment. A location once connected to another could easily sprout a new branch, so to speak. In other words, new scenes could appear.

Wen Yingchao had noticed this as soon as he arrived.

Unlike the Nether Abyss, where flames still filled the ruins, there wasn’t a single trace of anything outside the Hall of Eternal Life. The place didn’t look as though anyone had ever visited it.

In the original novel, the Hall of Eternal Life eventually collapsed, and the fortune-teller disappeared without a trace. When the protagonist returned several years later, the place had become a dessert shop, bustling with customers coming and going.

Wen Yingchao took a deep breath.

If this was also Gu Yunjiang’s first time entering this scene, then Wen Yingchao couldn’t afford to be treated as a guinea pig for testing things out.

There were no lights in the corridor of the Hall of Eternal Life. The farther he went, the darker it became. Feeling his way along the wall, Wen Yingchao slowly made his way forward while considering how to handle whatever came next.

“Host, there’s really no need to go around in such a roundabout way…”

The emotionless system suddenly appeared without so much as a greeting.

Wen Yingchao: “…”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Did you really have to read out the narration that came after that, too?”

The system paused briefly before replying in a stiff, formal tone. “Sorry, Host. Something happened on our end earlier, and the backend temporarily underwent maintenance. Thank you for your patience.”

Wen Yingchao: Amazing.

I’m calling the police and having every last one of you arrested!

“Fine.”

Wen Yingchao leaned against the corridor wall, his smile not reaching his eyes.

“Now that you’ve finally decided to come back, why don’t you explain exactly what’s going on?”

“Certainly, Host.”

The system began reading aloud in a monotonous voice.

“Record of the Lunar Eclipse is a male-centric progression novel with no romantic pairings…”

Wen Yingchao: ?

Get lost.

He had at least read the novel all the way to the ending. Did the system really think he didn’t know what the story was about? Was it treating him like an idiot?

“Get to the point.”

He wearily interrupted the system’s lengthy explanation.

“I just want to know what you meant earlier when you said you’d provide technical assistance.”

“I was just about to explain that,” the system replied. “You can draw a card to use the original owner’s abilities. Your card-drawing privileges are enabled by default, so you don’t need to call for me to use them. The cooldown period is twelve hours.”

Wen Yingchao’s eyes lit up. “You mean…?”

“The original owner was a Spirit-Bearer in the domain of consciousness,” the system reminded him.

The original novel had barely described Wen Yingchao’s abilities, mainly because he had died too early in the story. Even though he continued to appear frequently afterward, most of his appearances involved the protagonist beating him down in flashbacks, creating a deeply ingrained impression of him as little more than a punching bag. As a result, many readers had nearly forgotten one important detail.

Wen Yingchao was the absolute master of the domain of consciousness.

Now that he had obtained the original owner’s abilities, wouldn’t the consciousness prison become his home turf?

“Host, there’s something I need to remind you of.”

The system continued, “Because your current condition is poor, and to protect the safety of your consciousness, you can only use some lower-level abilities for the time being.”

Wen Yingchao asked, “For the time being?”

The system replied, “Yes. As your strength increases, these restrictions will gradually be lifted.”

Having something was better than nothing!

Wen Yingchao was eager to try. “How do I draw a card?”

“Try imagining a card-drawing interface, then draw a card directly.”

That was easy. Who hadn’t played a gacha game before?

Time to experience the thrill of gambling!

In his imagination, Wen Yingchao pressed the Wish button and watched a golden light appear, signaling a successful pull—

“Congratulations! You’ve drawn one Cognitive Modification card.”

Wen Yingchao didn’t need the system to explain how to use it. The moment he drew the card, he instinctively understood its function.

[Cognitive Modification]

Allows the user to alter someone’s perception of an object. For example, a person might perceive a cat as a dog or mistake a notebook for a biscuit.

Duration: 30 minutes.

The effect will not end prematurely unless the user suffers a severe injury.

This item expires 12 hours after acquisition. If not used within the allotted time, it will become void.

Card-drawing cooldown active. Time remaining: 12 hours.

It looked pretty good, even better than he’d expected. Perhaps it would prove useful later.

Wen Yingchao mentally put the card away.

He asked the system, “Do you have any stronger cards? Something that could directly connect the ‘door’ of this prison to the place right in front of me, for example?”

System: “.”

Wen Yingchao: “Let me draw another card!”

System: “Host, I’m considering your safety. Forcibly using an ability that doesn’t match your current mental strength will cause a backlash.”

In other words, No. You can’t draw another card right now.

“Fine,” Wen Yingchao conceded. “You won’t suddenly disappear again next time, will you?”

The system said nothing.

Wen Yingchao: ?

“Hey!”

“Host, you are now a qualified transmigrator,” the system said. “You must bravely face difficulties on your own instead of relying on me for everything.”

In other words, even the system wasn’t sure when it might suddenly disappear again.

Wen Yingchao: “…Can any of you people actually be trusted?”

Complaining aside, the system had returned, and he had successfully drawn an item card that could help him. Wen Yingchao didn’t want to waste any more time.

The corridor stretched endlessly into the distance, its darkness growing deeper the farther he went, stirring up the fear buried within the human heart.

He muttered to himself, “Time to move.”

The corridor wasn’t nearly as long as it had appeared from the outside.

At the bend at the far end, Wen Yingchao felt his way toward a mirror. His reflection appeared in the glass.

He had originally wanted to see what the original owner looked like, but he was disappointed to discover that the face staring back at him was exactly the same as his own face in the real world.

Perhaps the system had modified the original owner’s appearance out of concern that Wen Yingchao might struggle to adjust to it.

Muttering to himself, Wen Yingchao turned around. To the right of the bend was the Hall of Eternal Life’s reception room. Just like the entrance outside, it was blocked only by a curtain. The light filtering through was dim, casting only a faint glow across the surface of the mirror.

“Finally decided to show up?”

Before Wen Yingchao could even touch the curtain, the person inside had already sensed his presence and spoke impatiently in a teasing tone.

Gu Yunjiang’s voice.

Wen Yingchao: “…”

Good grief. He’d known it!

Wen Yingchao raised his hand and pushed aside the curtain. The first thing he saw was a half-burned candle in the center of the table.

The shop’s decor was more or less what he’d expected. Its walls were covered with all sorts of random papers and decorations, all scrawled with bizarre symbols.

It wasn’t his imagination. A faint chill seeped into his skin, sending a shiver down his spine.

It was a wonder a place like this could attract any customers at all.

As for Gu Yunjiang, he was sprawled lazily in the fortune-teller’s original seat, playing with the crystal ball that served as a decoration on the corner of the table. He seemed completely unsurprised by the current situation. In fact, he even waved cheerfully at Wen Yingchao and said, “Hi!”

Hi your ass.

Wen Yingchao pulled out a chair and sat opposite Gu Yunjiang.

Gu Yunjiang spoke first, propping his head up with one hand and sounding aggrieved.

“About time you showed up. I’ve been waiting for ages.”

“I borrowed the fortune-teller’s seat. Would you like me to tell your fortune now?”

He shuffled the playing cards on the table, smiling brightly.

“It’s free. Not tempted? You won’t find an opportunity like this anywhere else.”

Gu Yunjiang’s abilities were now far beyond what they had once been.

Perhaps dealing with a memory construct inside the consciousness prison without alerting anyone really wasn’t difficult for him.

Wen Yingchao said, “Liar.”

Gu Yunjiang looked surprised at his accusation.

“How dare you say that about me? Weren’t you the one who lied to me first?”

Gu Yunjiang rose from the fortune-teller’s seat.

“We’re both as bad as each other, so neither of us should criticize the other. Or do you prefer the old me, the one who was so easy to fool?”

His icy hand closed around Wen Yingchao’s.

“But thanks to you, I can’t go back. Because of you, I can never go back again.”

Wen Yingchao was startled and immediately tried to shake him off, but Gu Yunjiang was gripping him too tightly. He couldn’t break free.

“You’re still just as disobedient as ever. Still the same. Even though I know exactly what kind of person you are, that you’re always waiting for an opportunity to stab me in the back, I still can’t help approaching you. I still can’t bring myself to kill you.”

Gu Yunjiang leaned in until his face was right in front of Wen Yingchao’s. They were so close that their breaths mingled. Wen Yingchao could clearly see his own reflection in the other man’s eyes, almost making him suspect that Gu Yunjiang would kiss him the next second.

“Gu Yunjiang…!”

Gu Yunjiang pressed a hand against the back of Wen Yingchao’s head.

“No, this won’t do. This really won’t do. I have to punish you somehow, make you suffer a little. Only then will you believe me and learn to listen to me properly.”

Damn it! You’re treating me like a lab rat, and you still expect me to trust you?

Wen Yingchao gritted his teeth.

He stopped struggling and simply leaned forward, intending to take a vicious bite out of Gu Yunjiang’s face. Ideally, he’d tear off a chunk of flesh. After all, since they were consciousness constructs, the only consequence would be pain.

As long as he didn’t die, the wound would heal quickly.

Gu Yunjiang dodged just in time.

He pulled back a little and tilted his head.

“Are you a dog? Planning to bite people now?”

You’re damn right I’m biting you, you lunatic.

Wen Yingchao retorted, “Why is there a dog in front of me speaking human language? How strange.”

“Sigh. The guilty party is playing the victim.”

A drop of candle wax slid down the side of the candle and melted into the metal tray. The surroundings seemed to grow a little darker.

Gu Yunjiang’s lips moved. He lowered his eyes to stare at Wen Yingchao, his voice soft, yet every word he spoke was unmistakably clear.

“Now, I’m going to punish you.”

“Welcome to the Puppet Game.”