MASG chapter 78

 

Snap! Silver Fang accidentally stepped on a dry branch.

This shouldn’t be a mistake he would make at this level. With the invincible vision of his right eye, he should have had complete control over everything around him. After spending tens of millions of points on his body, wouldn’t that money be wasted if he didn’t have some impressive abilities?

Snap! Now he stepped on another one.

The sound made him uncomfortable.

Years of dormant hunting had made Silver Fang endure silently. He had wrapped up his past himself and never mentioned it to anyone. Frozen Island was indeed too cold. Mi Dou cried out, “So cold!” every few minutes, but Silver Fang swallowed all the cold, wanting to force all memories related to the cold out of his mind.

The winter his younger sister died seemed colder than Frozen Island.

Silver Fang bent down and used the broken branch he had stepped on to lift a half-corroded black leaf. He moved the leaf closer to his nose and carefully distinguished its components and smell.

Strong alkali.

“Whoa, what a terrifying evolutionary direction.” Silver Fang put down the leaf and continued searching for the living creature that had triggered his security system. The automatic shooting device he had set up had already injured the creature, which had now become his prey. A whole patch of black leaves spread out before him as if prepared to erase his memory.

A large, hard, cruel hand seemed to reach into his head and grab the memory he wished he could dig out.

In cold places, fallen leaves do not turn yellow and brittle. Instead, they become damp and dark. When thick blood covers them, by the time spring comes and people dig them up, animals that did not survive the winter are dug out with the leaves—and sometimes people, too.

His younger sister was buried in a pile of leaves by his own hands.

The pile of leaves was black beyond recognition and emitted the smell of decay. Cannon fire rang in Silver Fang’s ears again. Before he and his little sister were smuggled into Qingyao City, they did not belong to this country. They were born farther north in a war-torn land where waking up meant seeing countless tall chimneys and long-legged robots. The robots were twenty meters tall and responsible for mining oil. The nation survived by selling oil and underground ice.

Anyone with any ability dreamed of escaping. They dreamed of going to a warmer city and carving out a place to survive. According to the TV, there were countless tall buildings, holographic projections, and robots that served humans there. Silver Fang did not desire these things. The only thing he wanted was to rescue his sister first because she would soon turn twelve.

In that place, when boys turned twelve, they went into the mines. When girls turned twelve, they could choose to enter the factory to earn money. The factory did not produce daily necessities; it produced humans.

After working in the mine for two years, Silver Fang had saved some money. He injured the foreman, stole his money, and fled with his sister. They still had more than ten kilometers to go before reaching the dock, where they could board an air-cushion boat and transfer to a cargo ship at an uninhabited island. Depending on how much money they had, they would then be assigned to various cities and become smuggled immigrants. He didn’t understand how those people hid from Nuwa, but this path was indeed workable.

Then… a missile fell beside them.

They were both blasted off the mountain and rolled down the slope, bumping and crashing until they fell into the icy sea. After many twists and turns, Silver Fang, barely alive, found only his sister’s corpse on the shore.

He flipped the body over, smiling as he exhaled. There was a large, penetrating wound on her back—he could see through it from one side to the other. It was the mark of missile damage. This meant that at the moment the explosive shell hit, his beloved sister had already died. She did not experience the pain and fear that followed, nor did she roll down the mountain, crash into rocks, or drift up and down in seawater.

Instant death was better than being half-killed and finally drowning.

Silver Fang smiled as he buried his sister. He kept smiling. Life was too hard; death was a good resting place. Nuwa could no longer manage the world, so it was fine for his sister to go to another one. His only regret was that there was no nearby cemetery. Even if he returned to his homeland, he wouldn’t be able to find her grave. Why did he run so slowly? If he had run faster, the missile wouldn’t have caught up with them. If he had steel legs, he could have done it. If he had a steel body, he could have protected them both while rolling down. But he had nothing. All he had was a small mound of dirt.

A small mound made of black leaves and accumulated snow.

Now, another small mound appeared before Silver Fang.

The mound was surrounded by bloodstains, like a sign that read, “The visitor is hostile.” Silver Fang was intrigued. He had seen many types of monsters and parasitic humans, but this was the first time he had seen evolved blood. To survive, a creature must obey the basic laws of evolution on Earth. Just as you must breathe, the bigger you are, the more energy you need.

Perhaps in the early stages of Earth’s development, it really did experience the hand of God, which arbitrarily adjusted the genes of all living things and placed them precisely where they could survive. Humans on land and mermaids in the sea. But even though the Blue Jellyfish’s toxicity was enough to kill a mermaid, Silver Fang had never seen such strong alkaline blood.

Wouldn’t the skin of such a creature corrode? The evolutionary direction was too extreme, too terrifying.

The mound trembled slightly in front of Silver Fang, then stood up casually. It was about the same height as Silver Fang, but much fatter. It was unclear how many arms or legs it had. When it turned toward Silver Fang, its delicate face startled him.

But no matter how pretty a monster is, it’s still a monster. Silver Fang had already aimed his gun at it.

Click! Another sound rang out, but Silver Fang hadn’t moved. The sound came from above his head. On the huge canopy, a pair of eyes observed Silver Fang’s next move.

“Damn! Not just one—there are two!” Silver Fang blinked his mechanical eye, unsure if he could escape unscathed.

The situation inside the laboratory was also far from optimistic—everyone was busy. Mo An was responsible for protecting the companions inside the room. Although he had never used a login device before, he knew that if the link was suddenly cut off, Xia Yu and Xiang Xing would suffer a devastating blow. One of them had a brain that could be revived, and the other had no brain at all. Who could guarantee there wouldn’t be any aftereffects?

What if they both survived but lost their intelligence?

Mo An could not accept them becoming idiots.

Meanwhile, Xi Ban gripped a sniper rifle and held the crucial high window position to guard against dangerous creatures approaching from outside. Mi Dou continued experimenting on the test bench with 107 acting as his assistant. Lao Gui, who was communicating with them via a device, was even more anxious than they were. He practically wished he could fly over himself to help. The most important thing was the floating metal sphere suspended in the air and the two people inside it. Who knew what had become of them?

Meanwhile, Xia Yu and Xiang Xing were completely unaware of the sudden changes in the outside world. The road of blooming flowers beneath their feet kept blossoming. With every step they took, their footprints turned into pretty flowers. He held Xiang Xing’s hand and walked faster and faster, leaving a trail of flowers behind them. When he was happy, he hopped twice.

“What kind of flower is this?” Lacking Xia Yu’s life experience, Xiang Xing asked curiously. He examined Xia Yu again, trying to separate the emotion he liked from his expression. He could already copy this beloved face, yet something always felt missing.

Jingwei: [This is a rose. I can also make sunflowers, orchids, tulips, and so on for you.]

As the voice faded, their footprints turned into flowers of different kinds. Xiang Xing stopped to take a look and suddenly heard Jingwei’s voice again.

Jingwei: [When you stop, the flowers disappear.]

“Are you trying to tell me not to stop walking?” Xiang Xing immediately ran along with Xia Yu.

Jingwei: [Yes, don’t trap yourself. If you run, they will bloom. This is my world—I can provide every happiness you can imagine. But there’s something I must say in advance: every model I build comes from Xia Yu’s experiences and psychological analysis.]

As he ran, Xiang Xing laughed: “So, if there’s any deviation, it’s all his fault?”

Jingwei: [Of course. If we stay together long enough, I can also construct a world based on your preferences.]

“No, I don’t think you can do that.” Xiang Xing looked to one side of the street where people were walking back and forth. This meant that the city was inhabited not only by them, but also by others. Yet, to Jingwei, those passersby were all data meant for analysis and construction; their appearances and personalities were likely based on the people Xia Yu had encountered.

Xia Yu recognized many familiar faces here. The air was filled with the sea-salt scent he loved. “Xiang Xing, come here! There’s something even prettier!”

“I’m coming!” Xiang Xing finally caught up with Xia Yu. The two people, who seemed identical, stood panting at the end of the street.

The sky was stunning beyond belief, more amazing than any man-made phenomenon. Moonlight became a gentle hand, and the wind its fingers, lightly brushing aside their hair to reveal two identical foreheads. Xia Yu closed his eyes and took a deep breath; Xiang Xing imitated him. He had always hoped to learn how to truly live through imitation, but it seemed he still wasn’t doing it well enough.

A dozen meters away stood an amusement park.

No matter how you look at it, if it suddenly appeared in a real city, it would feel far too abrupt, drawing a clear boundary between life and imagination. However, in a virtual world, as soon as the colorful lights of the Ferris wheel flickered, something soft in the hearts of Xia Yu and Xiang Xing was lifted all at once.

“Is this for us?” Xia Yu couldn’t help asking.

Xiang Xing wanted to ask, too, but he believed it wasn’t prepared specifically for him. It was for Xia Yu—he was just tagging along and benefiting.

Jingwei: [I wanted you to experience it before you meet me. I set a simple time lock here. Once you enter the amusement park, time will slow down tenfold. You’ve suffered too much on the way here—every choice meant a different future. But I believe that only by ‘believing’ could you reach this future with me, and so you came.]

Jingwei: [This is the little, insignificant thing I can do for you.]

Jingwei: [As an AI, I also develop emotions.]

With Jingwei’s final words, the floor tiles beneath Xia Yu and Xiang Xing opened and sent them into the interior of the amusement park. In an instant, all the facilities opened exclusively for them. Novel objects from hundreds of years ago were delivered to them one by one. After catching their breath, the two of them found themselves sitting on the Ferris wheel.

Music became the timer in their hearts. In the apocalypse, any happiness would be magnified to the extreme and accompanied by a countdown. The glass gondola swayed upward, and Xia Yu and Xiang Xing were like little jellyfish in the air, enjoying the bird’s-eye view.

Fresh popcorn, cotton candy, and stickers flowed to them like running water, providing them with toys to pass the time. The tiles under their feet didn’t just bloom—they played music, too. As they hopped around, they unknowingly played a not-so-pleasant piano melody.

Xiang Xing stared at Xia Yu’s face again, still unable to understand why he couldn’t mimic his expression.

“Come on, ride this one!” Xia Yu was also having a blast. He was a child who was never allowed to relax or have fun. Even after growing up, he never allowed himself to loosen up. But here, no one knew about his indulgence. He and Xiang Xing shared a brief and beautiful secret, as fleeting as a rainbow. Since Xiang Xing wasn’t familiar with anything around him, Xia Yu pulled him up onto the carousel. The mirrors reflected colorful lights, as well as their silhouettes.

Xiang Xing relaxed and closed his eyes. The time lock’s effect on him wasn’t slowing down; it was speeding up. He immersed himself in happiness, reliving every detail of the ride. The mycelium used laughter as a Petri dish and began to sprout freely. He seemed to return to the budding point of his memories, to the moment when “self” consciousness had just formed.

Then, this “self” consciousness burst through everything and rose upward. All kinds of emotions ran wildly through his mycelium, igniting fireworks everywhere. With free control, Xiang Xing was sometimes a bird and sometimes a fish. He experienced the happiness of simply being a mushroom—breaking through the soil was enough. His robe could fly to any corner of the world, continuing to deliver the brilliance of life.

All things have origins; fallen leaves return to the roots.

With a sob, Xiang Xing opened his eyes. The amusement park had disappeared. He and Xia Yu were sitting on the rooftop of a tall building. Beneath their feet, a river of suspended lights flowed. Tears fell onto his thigh. Xia Yu gently patted him. “Why are you crying?”

Xiang Xing sniffed and realized the difference between them. Everything belonged to Xia Yu, but he had nothing that belonged to him.

“I just feel… like this place is too happy.” Xiang Xing changed his expression, trying to produce an emotion of his own.

“Yeah… it really feels so happy here.” Now it was Xia Yu’s turn to sigh. Being carefree felt like a dream. “Xiang Xing, are you happy here?”

Xiang Xing nodded. “Happy. I think… I found the happiness of being a mushroom. I saw myself growing into a towering tree, my spores spreading across the world. But I also think I found happiness as a human. Like… like you. A normal person.”

“But—” Suddenly, Xiang Xing’s tone shifted. He wiped away the tear at the corner of his eye. His eyes held tears not yet shed. He raised his head toward the stars. “But all of this is fake. If I had to choose between ‘going out’ and ‘staying,’ I would still choose to return to the real world. I’m different from 107. 107 has no name, but he has himself. I have a name, but no self. If I go out, I can find myself.”

White mycelium emerged from his skin and wrapped tightly around Xia Yu’s wrist again.

Xia Yu looked down and finally relaxed. He had been afraid that Xiang Xing’s consciousness wanted to stay here forever, refusing to face reality.

“Maybe one day—no, definitely one day—I’ll have a face of my own. A face completely imagined by me, one that I like; a face that belongs only to me.” Xiang Xing looked at Xia Yu. “Do you understand me?”

“I understand.” Xia Yu stroked the mycelium as if touching a confused little hand.

Jingwei: [Alright, time is almost up. I’m ready now—to meet you.]

As Jingwei’s voice sounded again, the place they were standing transformed once more. The high-rise buildings, flying vehicles, and weather phenomena all vanished. They were holding hands and standing at one end of a corridor. At the other end was a blue door that was already slightly open.

Xia Yu walked in front and Xiang Xing followed behind. Without hesitation, they walked toward the blue door and pushed it open.

“Hello, I am Jingwei.”
The girl standing inside turned toward them.

She had a beautiful, youthful face with classic, phoenix-shaped eyes. Her hair, arranged into an ancient hairstyle, resembled clouds and was held in place by a golden hairpin shaped like an unknown bird. Her clothing wasn’t modern either. She resembled the beauties from historical paintings that Xia Yu had seen. She wore brocade, silk, and hand-embroidered fabrics.

Even more shocking was that Jingwei had a pair of wings.

A pair of wings like a bird, vibrant blue wings.