Doomsday Wonderland

Chapter 1655: Quite Unaccustomed

“Do you know why I didn’t attack you before?” Lin Sanjiu’s question lingered in the air, swallowed by the thick silence of the formless, distant chaos.

Just as she began to wonder if they were too far apart to even hear each other, Ah Quan’s voice emerged, slightly hesitant, “…Why?”

“It’s not because you’re unusual, and it’s not because you might set something off,” Lin Sanjiu replied. “It’s because every word I’ve told you has been the truth.”

“Oh?”

“I told you I’ve broken through countless predicaments. I won’t be trapped here, especially once I’ve found my friends,” she said almost calmly. “Whether it’s in your s.p.a.ce or inside some memoir, we’ll find our way out. So, it’s fine if you deliberately made me leave.”

Ah Quan was quiet, offering no reply.

“And I also said that if you’re willing, I’ll take you with us,” she continued. “I still mean it.”

This time, Ah Quan’s response came almost immediately, sounding a bit amused. “Why?”

“You said you’re a person,” Lin Sanjiu said with a quiet, stubborn resolve. “Humans should live, and living means creating new memories. You’re forever guarding the past—your past, others’ past… How can that be called living?”

After a pause, Ah Quan’s voice rose from the unseen distance.

“You’re the first living person to break into this s.p.a.ce since it was created. Even if I’d wracked my brain, I wouldn’t have imagined the intruder would be someone like you.” He seemed to give a small, bitter smile. “But there’s so much you don’t know.”

“Then tell me.”

As she finished her sentence, Lin Sanjiu faintly heard some rustling behind her, like someone approaching from afar.

“Ten years ago, I was just an ordinary posthuman. I lived in Twelve Worlds Centrum back then. My combat ability wasn’t strong, so I made small deals, running occasional errands for bigger organizations to get by,” Ah Quan said. His voice held a detached tone, as though recounting another person’s life. “I’m not sure which job eventually landed me in my current predicament. All I know is that someone discovered me—discovered my ability.”

“Your ability is…?” The answer seemed almost self-evident.

“[Memory Master].”

As he said this, footsteps became more distinct behind her. There were two sets, and they seemed to be homing in on Ah Quan’s voice.

“I can extract, duplicate, remove, or alter significant memories in a person,” Ah Quan continued. “Anything you can imagine, really—there’s almost nothing I can’t do. I can even implant entirely fictional memories, though only in limited amounts.”

Could anyone still consider that an “ordinary” posthuman?

Perhaps antic.i.p.ating her shock, Ah Quan quickly added, “Sounds impressive, right? But in reality, it hasn’t done me much good. My combat ability is average; I can’t just subdue anyone I want and manipulate their memories. And I have one considerable weakness.”

He didn’t seem to mind sharing his vulnerability with her and continued, “To manipulate someone’s memories, I first have to read them. You’ve experienced my reading method—it requires me to relive that memory as if I were its owner.”

“Provided the target doesn’t have some kind of unfathomable, mutated psyche,” Ah Quan said, “the moment I step into their ident.i.ty, see the world through their eyes, walk their path—I end up feeling an overwhelming empathy for them… Even after it’s over, I’ll still feel as if they were another version of me.”

Lin Sanjiu turned toward the sound and barely made out two figures taking shape in the haze. The two shadows stood several meters apart, neither one seeming eager to close the distance.

“I can’t manipulate anyone who’s been closely tied to me… When they discovered me, they found this weakness, too,” Ah Quan admitted, almost sighing. “Since I, as a person, couldn’t alter others’ memories to suit them, they turned to other means… letting a pocket dimension grow out of me and my ability.”

“Sis!”

At the familiar call, one of the figures in the distance broke into a run, rus.h.i.+ng toward her like a lost seabird finding its way back. Even if Lin Sanjiu had wanted to say something to Ah Quan, the sound of “Sis” made her forget everything else.

She half-turned, barely opening her arms before Ji Shanqing was already in her embrace.

How could she describe it? It felt like a missing piece had finally clicked back into place. Until now, Lin Sanjiu hadn’t even realized she’d been missing something essential.

“Sis,” Ji Shanqing murmured, burying his head against her neck, his voice thick with emotion, “I thought it would be a long time before I’d see you again…”

In the misty distance behind them, Ah Quan seemed to sigh, so faintly it almost seemed like an illusion. When Lin Sanjiu looked back, there was nothing to see. She gently stroked Ji Shanqing’s hair to calm him, calling out to Ah Quan, “Who did this? Who turned you into… this?”

But this time, she received no response. Ah Quan’s voice remained absent, even as Lin Sanjiu, Ji Shanqing, and Yu Yuan made their way to the edge of the memoir, where they found only thick, roiling fog—Ah Quan and his urban memoir seemed to have finally left.

“It’s essentially a pocket dimension,” Yu Yuan said.

If Ji Shanqing were a cat, Lin Sanjiu could almost swear he’d be purring contentedly in her arms, too at ease to be of much help. Yu Yuan, however, was fulfilling his role as a Veda, stating calmly and a.n.a.lytically, “Pocket dimensions vary. This one seems to be a spatial-type dimension. If the rules don’t allow for human entry and exit, it’s no surprise that Ah Quan said we couldn’t leave.”

Lin Sanjiu thought of the balloon-like pocket s.p.a.ce she’d once seen with the Southwind Goose. “Do we have to break it by force?”

“We could try,” Yu Yuan replied, his expression stoic, “but it might harm Ah Quan in ways we can’t predict.”

Lin Sanjiu looked at him, surprised. Would a Veda normally care about that?

Whether a Veda cared or not, Ji Shanqing clearly didn’t. To him, each memoir was a tedious, irrelevant addition. He scoffed at Yu Yuan. “Did you literally get your wires crossed? Or have you forgotten how we got in here? If we shatter it and fall into open s.p.a.ce, how exactly do you think Sis will survive?”

Just as the two Vedas were about to launch into an argument, Lin Sanjiu, already feeling a headache coming on, quickly interrupted, “Listen to me! I have a plan.”

They both paused and looked at her expectantly.

After Lin Sanjiu laid out her idea, they were silent for a moment. Finally, Ji Shanqing muttered, “I always thought I’d be the one to save Sis…”

“I figured you’d need my Veda abilities to get us out,” Yu Yuan said.

The two of them had reached an unexpected consensus—Lin Sanjiu had become the savior of the situation, something neither of them, nor even she, had antic.i.p.ated.