Doomsday Wonderland

Chapter 1367: Storm Incoming

Lin Sanjiu had been at the Copper Harbor Pier for a whole night.

This morning, there was no sun.

Thick, dark clouds covered the sky, pressing heavily towards the sea, making it sink deeper. A storm was looming in the distance, invading the land and sky, stripping away all colors and leaving behind a heavy gloominess, dark blue, and obscurity. The fierce wind stirred up the resistance of the waves, and the roar of the waves clashing reverberated through the air, faintly shaking the earth.

On the container pier, there was occasionally a sharp clang when steel collided with the crane as if it wanted to pierce through the cracks in the world. Lin Sanjiu stood calmly between the huge containers, feeling as if she was the only herself left in the world.

Of course, this was also because of Zheng Aiai, who had followed her silently all along. Sometimes, like now, she suddenly broke the silence and said, “How much longer can you hold on? It’s been a whole night.”

Lin Sanjiu turned to look at her. Zheng Aiai seemed a bit uneasy, raising her bound hands and gently brushing her hair aside.

“I mean… you have already degenerated into an ordinary person,” she said, lowering her eyelids. “Although… I don’t know why you can still use evolved abilities, your physical fitness is still incomparable to that of a posthuman. Moreover, my colleagues can take turns and rest… If we drag this out, you won’t be able to endure it. I think… if you give up now, you still have a chance.”

Indeed, Lin Sanjiu was now no different from an ordinary person.

Yesterday evening, when she finished injecting the adrenaline, Zheng Aiai had already taken out a spherical restraint from her storage items—it was obviously specially made for dangerous criminals. After binding Lin Sanjiu’s hands with it, she had no room to move them. It was even challenging to raise them because each spherical restraint weighed fifty kilograms.

At that time, Lin Sanjiu was still sitting on the ground, allowing herself to be locked in the spherical restraints on the ground.

“Sorry about this,” Zheng Aiai said, not looking at her. “It’s a requirement. After capturing you alive, we have to use this thing.”

Lin Sanjiu watched as the restraints closed, both of her arms pinned to the ground by the black spherical restraints. She tried to lift her hands—it was difficult to even move them.

“If it’s too heavy and you can’t walk, I can help you lift it a bit,” Zheng Aiai said softly.

“No need for that,” Lin Sanjiu said with a small smile. “Could you stand up first?”

Zheng Aiai hesitated and slowly stood up.

“I probably can’t walk with it,” Lin Sanjiu explained. “So I’ll be fine without it.”

After a brief moment of confusion, Zheng Aiai suddenly widened her eyes. She realized Lin Sanjiu still had a trick up her sleeve, but it was too late. At this moment, the kidney formed by the black mist in Lin Sanjiu’s body suddenly exploded. The mist dispersed into a rolling and roaring mist, rapidly pouring into her arms and hands and finally concentrating in the palms of her hands, forming [Mosaic Censorship].

With a loud bang as the iron ball exploded into countless fragments, Zheng Aiai was reminded just in time. She quickly stepped back, protecting her head and face, and managed not to be blinded by the flying fragments—by the time she lowered her hands, Lin Sanjiu had already stood up from the ground and even patted the dust off her pants.

“You… you…” Zheng Aiai stuttered, unable to find the right words. “What’s going on?”

Lin Sanjiu shook her head, feeling the black mist recede from her hands like an ebbing tide. It returned to the depths of her body and turned into a dark kidney again—she could make it simulate the abilities she needed, but she couldn’t order it to stay put and not return to being a kidney.

“Well, it’s a long story,” she said and tilted her head, taking a step forward, causing Zheng Aiai to step back. “I lost a kidney in my last apocalyptic world. When I tried to redeem it, I found that it was gone… leaving me with only a mass of black mist for a kidney.”

Zheng Aiai had a hard time digesting this information.

“For a long time, it has been faithfully serving as a kidney in my body, to the point where I almost forgot about it… until the first time I injected adrenaline in this country. It suddenly seemed to be triggered like mad, dispersing into mist and filling my entire body.”

Lin Sanjiu sighed softly and said, “At that time, because my abilities had suddenly degenerated by a third, I didn’t think too much about it in my frustration. It wasn’t until one day, I suddenly thought of a nonsense phrase.”

Zheng Aiai listened intently, obviously not expecting to hear such a sentence, and even forgot to step back, asking, “Nonsense?”

“Yes, it’s just an obvious fact that’s been right in front of me all along.” Lin Sanjiu smiled at her. “It’s such a nonsense phrase—because it’s so obvious, it became a blind spot. This thing, although it acts as a kidney, is not a kidney in essence.”

No kidney in the world can disperse into mist, roam around the body, and then recondense into a kidney. So, the answer was straightforward nonsense: the nature of that mass of black mist determined that it could simulate the form of a kidney and perform its functions at the kidney’s location.

The next question naturally followed. Since it could simulate a kidney, could it simulate something else? Like… evolved abilities?

After careful consideration and experimentation, Lin Sanjiu found that her luck could be considered a blessing in disguise. If she had lost not a kidney but a lung, then even if the hospital could also use the black mist to simulate a lung for her, it would still be meaningless to her current condition. Once the black mist solidifies into form, there will be no more changes. In other words, once it becomes something, the black mist will obediently exist in the form of that thing and will not change midway.

“The only reason the black mist was activated was because I injected adrenaline, and it happened to be a kidney at that time,” Lin Sanjiu continued. “If it had simulated a lung, heart, liver… then no matter how much adrenaline I injected, it would only cause my abilities to degenerate, but it wouldn’t trigger any reaction from the black mist. It just so happened to be such a coincidence… I really have to thank you for suggesting that we inject adrenaline.”

Zheng Aiai finally sighed. “I thought I was helping you by telling you the information… I just didn’t expect to help you in this way.”

“But for a while, this discovery didn’t bring me any substantial help.”

Lin Sanjiu shook her head, and once again, her kidney dispersed into black mist, filling her hands and feet; this time, the mist simulated her lost physical strength—what it restored was her ability level when Lin Sanjiu injected adrenaline into her kidneys.

“The activated mist swept through every cell and every ability of mine, even saturating my card inventory with its presence… Han Suiping and I analyzed afterward, and we believe it probably memorized my ability form at that time for future simulation.” Lin Sanjiu spoke as she slowly approached Zheng Aiai. “But no matter how hard I tried, the mist kidney remained a kidney, refusing to transform into an evolved ability for me to use.”

Zheng Aiai knew her evolved ability was ineffective in front of her now, so she swallowed lightly and raised a long stick.

“Why?” she asked, holding the stick in front of her with both hands.

“It’s simple,” Lin Sanjiu smiled. Suddenly, her feet left the ground. The first time she injected adrenaline into her kidneys, her degradation wasn’t too severe; the mist’s representation of her abilities churning in her veins was sufficient to overwhelm most posthumans in the world—”Because my own abilities were still intact; there was no space for it to simulate.”

As she spoke, she turned into a black shadow, hovering above Zheng Aiai; the stick swung towards her, even producing a metallic sound as it broke the air, indicating Zheng Aiai’s lack of hesitation.

In battle, Lin Sanjiu’s body flowed like water. She twisted at an angle nearly impossible for a human body, grabbed the stick in mid-air, used its momentum to twist her body, and kicked toward Zheng Aiai’s head—when the latter fell backward with a muffled sound, Lin Sanjiu landed on the ground, the stick pressing against the young girl’s throat. The entire process was clean and efficient, taking only five seconds.

“You see, I had to vacate the space for a kidney before it could simulate one,” she said softly. “Thanks to you, now all my abilities are empty. Whatever I want it to simulate, it can simulate.”

Ignoring the vast gap in combat power and capabilities, Zheng Aiai lacked the most crucial aspect of combat: motivation. She had been resistant to this fight from the beginning, and when she realized she couldn’t win, she almost resigned herself, becoming Lin Sanjiu’s hostage.

However, Zheng Aiai’s mishap was quickly discovered by other posthumans who were investigating the situation.

After receiving the news, the posthumans sent by various countries to assist ended their patrols and searches in the Copper Harbor Pier, changing their strategy. They surrounded the Copper Harbor Pier, cutting off all routes except the sky above and the sea behind, seemingly intent on leaving Lin Sanjiu with no escape.

After a night of mutual probing, conflict, and ultimately stalemate, when morning dawned, silence befell the earth, signaling the impending storm.

On the increasingly turbulent dark sea, the anchored cargo ships had disappeared with the night. Rows of massive, iron-gray behemoths seemed to emerge from the gloomy clouds and gray mist, silently filling the sea; their weapons and cannons had already predictably cut off the sea routes. Occasionally, armed helicopters flew overhead, their rotor sounds echoing in the wind.

Zheng Aiai’s expression grew heavier, and she spoke less; she thought of something, and why she had advised Lin Sanjiu to give up, Lin Sanjiu could guess to some extent.

“You think I won’t last, it’s just a hope for you, right?” She turned her head to look at the assembled warships on the sea, whispering softly. “You’re scared now, aren’t you? You’re afraid I might actually hold on.”

Zheng Aiai opened her mouth.

“You don’t have ill intentions towards me, I know,”

Lin Sanjiu said without looking at her. “But what you’re afraid of isn’t me either. Your country sent people to deal with us posthumans because they succumbed to pressure… So, when you become an obstacle, will your country succumb to the same pressure again, treating you as a pawn? Ultimately, the only difference between you and me is our landing positions.”

When she looked back, Zheng Aiai’s face had already lost color.

“Don’t worry,” Lin Sanjiu smiled lightly, unable to describe whether it was bitter or resigned. “You’re so lucky to find a home in this vast world, I won’t test your country like this. There are too few people in the world that can withstand the test, why force it to that point?”

Zheng Aiai was stunned.

The mist emanated from within her; she reached out and broke the ropes binding Zheng Aiai’s hands, saying softly, “Go.”

Lin Sanjiu turned away.

In the distance was the impending storm, the assembled warships, and the waves waiting to engulf her.

“The next battle is between me and this world.”