Chapter 221: Balancing the Scales 02
“Your anchor point docking theory might not be entirely correct,” Li Wanran said softly, “but it is indeed a possibility. Have you shared this theory with anyone else?”
“No,” Kui Xin replied.
“That’s good. Thank you for telling me. This speculation is quite astonishing… Do you plan to make it public on the forum?” Li Wanran asked.
“There’s that intention, but we can wait a few days to observe the situation,” Kui Xin said. “Players must understand their own circumstances, their positions, and the roles they play in the world fusion. With this understanding, they won’t be caught off guard when disaster strikes, making the wrong response.”
Li Wanran looked at Kui Xin with concern and seriousness, saying gently, “I understand what you mean. World fusion will inevitably have serious consequences. Players do need to prepare. Before everyone became players, most were just ordinary people. The anchor point docking theory… discussing it on a large scale isn’t appropriate for the short term. First, we can’t confirm its accuracy, and second, we’re afraid that players might do something irrational…”
“We will be cautious in our disclosures,” Kui Xin said.
Li Wanran responded, “In the Second World, although players are moving towards unity, the Federation is pressing too hard. Players lack channels for information transmission and contact with each other. The Shadowless has made a big advertisement in White Whale City, and now capable players will surely find ways to converge there with the Shadowless. All players stand united, but what about those who cannot reach White Whale City? What does Black Snake plan to do?”
“There is already a preliminary plan, but we need to wait until we return to the Second World to implement it,” Kui Xin said. “The Shadowless is a player organization, but there’s more to it than the Shadowless; we’re just the most prominent among them. All player organizations can maintain contact and assist each other. Professor Li, if you encounter any difficulties in the Second World, the Shadowless will provide help as much as possible.”
“Thank you. It’s the same on my side,” Li Wanran said, glancing at the time. “I need to head back to the tobacco factory now. Goodbye.”
“Goodbye,” Kui Xin replied.
Li Wanran turned and left, while Kui Xin stayed behind.
Once Li Wanran’s figure completely disappeared, she looked toward the darkness ahead, where weeds and bushes grew wildly, perfect for hiding.
The second person to meet Kui Xin appeared: Tang Guan.
His appearance was no different from a few days ago; his mental state was stable and his gaze calm, indicating that he had spent the past week back in the Second World without much turmoil, at least without a threat to his life.
“I heard your conversation,” Tang Guan stated bluntly.
“Hmm, it doesn’t matter,” Kui Xin asked again, “Did you encounter any abnormalities while crossing worlds?”
“Are you asking about time anomalies, or…?” Tang Guan’s eyes, exposed outside his mask, flashed with an unusual emotion as he curiously made eye contact with the concealed eyes of Kui Xin under her hood.
“I’m asking about that ‘or,’ of course,” Kui Xin confirmed something from Tang Guan’s unfinished words.
“Red Gem or Blue Gem, which one do you choose?” Tang Guan’s voice was low, nearly indistinguishable; if not for Kui Xin’s excellent hearing, she might have missed his words entirely.
Her heart skipped a beat as she silently exchanged looks with Tang Guan.
His voice was a bit hoarse: “Regarding the anchor point theory, Professor Li said that special players might actually be the anchor points. How do we differentiate whether we are anchor points? Others have not faced questions about red and blue gems, but we have. We are special, could we… be anchor points?”
Beneath Tang Guan’s calm exterior lay immense confusion and fear.
He was trying hard to protect his family, to safeguard his home, but what if one of the factors threatening his family and home was himself? Enveloped by helpless emotions, he felt his mind becoming increasingly chaotic; the phantom toying with his consciousness laughed eerily, and the xenomorph trapped within him stirred restlessly, eager to break free from its cage.
“Dove,” Kui Xin stepped forward, getting closer to Tang Guan.
Tang Guan suddenly became alert, struggling to regain control; the phantom’s laughter diminished, and the chaotic noises of the xenomorph faded. He took a step back, his heart racing, feeling a tightness in his chest that made it hard to breathe.
“Apologies, I lost focus,” Tang Guan said.
“Your expression suggests it’s more than just losing focus,” Kui Xin observed the cold sweat on his forehead. “Dove, you chose the codename ‘Dove’ for yourself, suggesting you long for a peaceful life, right?”
“Yeah,” Tang Guan said poorly. “The wish for peace might not come true anymore. That question is meant for us to make a decision about our fate, isn’t it?”
“Unclear,” Kui Xin said.
Tang Guan continued, “Have you ever thought about why it’s you, and why it’s me?”
“I have considered it, but I can’t guess the answer. This answer is unobtainable. All we have before us is choice,” Kui Xin stated. “Having a choice is good; it means a hint, signifies that there’s room for adaptation in the future. Without choice or hint, facing a significant decision unexpectedly, I might not be able to make the optimal judgment.”
“Does the balance of choice indicate a hint for you?” Tang Guan pondered for a moment over Kui Xin’s words.
“To give an example. You seem to understand the situation as if you have cancer, and the doctor asks you to choose conservative treatment or to abandon treatment. In reality, you might have cancer, and you encounter a doctor on the way who advises you to get checked and to be mentally prepared for the possibility of having cancer,” Kui Xin said. “It is different.”
“Your analogy is strange, blending pessimism with optimism,” Tang Guan said with a bitter smile. “But you’re right; it is different. Receiving a hint may be a good thing… perhaps we don’t have ‘cancer.’”
He could only comfort himself like that.
“Did you come to find me for something?” Kui Xin asked.
Tang Guan adjusted his emotions and once stable, said, “I want to ask you a question: Do you know ‘Tang Guan?’”
Kui Xin was surprised by Tang Guan’s direct admission of his identity, but upon reflection, she understood.
Tang Guan was likely still trapped in Mechanized Dawn in the Second World, and to escape, he needed the help of an external force.
He had overheard Kui Xin and Li Wanran’s conversation and knew that Kui Xin was part of the “Shadowless,” a player organization. During his recent return, he had browsed the forum and seen the posts; the emergence of the Shadowless was like a thunderclap, causing a massive uproar—this was likely the most powerful and well-known player organization.
“I know you,” Kui Xin replied softly. “You are Tang Guan; I know.”
Tang Guan pulled out a knife from his pocket and made a cut on his left arm, blood oozing from the wound that did not immediately heal. He switched hands and made a cut on his right arm, and this time blue blood—xenomorph blood—flowed from the wound!
The wound quickly healed, and Tang Guan wiped away the blood, leaving no trace on his skin.
“I am a monster hybrid; the monster came back to this world with me, and my body is merging with my Second World body. Do you know what this means?” Tang Guan said in a low voice. “When I heard you mention the anchor point theory, I realized it could very well be true—mutations begin with players, starting from my own self. I am one of the intersections of the two worlds.”
“I no longer know what to do, Maotoufu,” Tang Guan said in pain. “I initially thought I’d find a way to persuade you to cooperate with me to escape Mechanized Dawn after confirming you meant no harm… but given the current situation, would my dying in the Second World actually benefit the First World?”
“No, the Heterogeneous Blooded Fang Zhi also died, but his death still triggered those mutations. In a situation where nothing is certain, your self-sacrifice might not hold any meaning and could instead accelerate the declaration of an anchor point somewhere, much like the tobacco factory,” Kui Xin observed Tang Guan’s pained expression and slightly softened her tone. “Right now, you don’t need to self-sacrifice; save your life.”
Tang Guan pressed his lips together, looking at Kui Xin.
“What position are you in the Second World?” Kui Xin asked.
“Fusgong City,” Tang Guan replied.
“Are you one hundred percent sure?”
“Pretty sure,” Tang Guan said. “When I lost consciousness, the monster residing in my body kept monitoring the surroundings, and it heard the researchers surrounding me mention it this way.”
“Is your situation dangerous?” Kui Xin asked.
Tang Guan replied, “As long as I still have research value, I will not die.”
“Are there others being held with you?”
Tang Guan shook his head. “I am a highly dangerous experimental subject and am kept in solitary confinement; I can only see researchers.”
Kui Xin nodded. “I understand. The Shadowless will come to rescue you when the time is right.”
Tang Guan couldn’t help but say, “You just agreed like that?”
“What other choice is there?” Kui Xin replied. “If we can save our fellow kind, we will. It has always been this way. If we want to gain some benefit from the rescue mission, it’s that we hope players can come together, forming a force that others dare not easily challenge—it’s beneficial for us and all players. Isolated individuals are bound to struggle to survive.”
Tang Guan’s brows relaxed a bit. “You’re right.”
“When you were on the ship… I’m sorry, I didn’t have the ability to save you,” Kui Xin said.
“It’s not your fault,” Tang Guan smiled slightly. “We all have our difficulties.”
Kui Xin confirmed, “You can control the monster now?”
“In this world, yes,” Tang Guan said. “I reached a ceasefire agreement with it, so it won’t cause chaos and control me randomly in the Second World since it also wants to leave the prison of Mechanized Dawn.”
“Do you have a way to sever ties with the monster?” Kui Xin asked.
“Very difficult,” Tang Guan said. “But I can try to suppress it.”
As long as his symbiotic extraordinary ability continues to enhance, he might be able to counter the phantom again. Back on the Kraken, he managed to suppress the phantom for a long while until, overwhelmed, the phantom had completely taken control of him.
Kui Xin asked meticulously, “What level of symbiosis have you reached with the monster?”
“Very deep; it can even know my thoughts,” Tang Guan said complexly.
“That’s problematic,” Kui Xin said. “You need to… be prepared.”
“Be prepared for failure and giving up my life?” Tang Guan said. “I’ve been ready for that for a long time. In my situation, the probability of dying is greater than successfully surviving.”
“Good,” Kui Xin said. “Then try to hold on longer in that world, Dove.”
When parting, Kui Xin took Tang Guan’s contact information so they could reach out in case of special circumstances in the First World.
Today is… August 24.
Tomorrow, August 25, is the first day of university registration, and it will last for two days.
Kui Xin opened her phone to check messages and saw her high school homeroom teacher had sent a message around 9 PM on the 23rd.
“Xiao Xin, come to my house for lunch tomorrow. Have you prepared everything for university? I was worried you might not think of what to bring on your first day, so I prepared a few things for you. Let me know if you need them; if you do, bring them to school.”
The teacher had always been protective of Kui Xin’s self-esteem, knowing her family situation was not good, so she would help her subtly without making her feel like she was being patronized.
Kui Xin was no longer short of money. Working as a tutor for Su Rong had earned her some living expenses, and Xie Gankqing had transferred her 100,000 yuan as an apology. Though she had spent some, it was more than enough to support her university life.
Reading the message from her teacher sparked a sense of disorientation in Kui Xin.
In her teacher’s timeline, they had just had a meal together a few weeks ago, but in Kui Xin’s timeline, it had been a long time since she last visited her home for dinner.
She was busy every moment, with no time to reflect on her life, no energy to think about what to do after starting university. She had originally planned everything well—a summer job to earn some money, studying hard once at university, maybe joining an interesting club to make friends, participating in the student council to train herself, building good relationships with teachers, and then following a structured path to graduate while working to earn money for graduate school.
Now all those plans were disrupted; Kui Xin was no longer thinking about earning money or her life, but rather how to destroy her enemies and secure herself in the game between the two worlds.
Even if, in the end, Kui Xin could return to a peaceful life, her mindset could never revert to its previous state.
The Second World had not inflicted physical pain on Kui Xin but had changed her mentally.
Scrolling down the messages, she saw Su Rong had also messaged her, asking how her evening was and whether she needed her to send out patrols with shadows.
Kui Xin replied, “No need, rest. You have school starting too, Rongrong; make sure to rest well.”
Su Rong: “Help, Xin Xin, you saying that has triggered my anxiety about starting school!!”
Kui Xin couldn’t help but chuckle as she read the next message.
He Kangshi: “Boss, Augus is messaging again, asking why I’m not continuing to kill players, if I don’t want to continue the bet, and he also asked me to choose between the Red Gem and the Blue Gem… what does he mean? By the way, the forum report shows that this week Remover 777 has killed players again…”
The smile on Kui Xin’s face vanished instantly. Augus’s message tonight was like suddenly encountering a pile of dung in the middle of the road—repulsive. She typed expressionlessly, “Tell that idiot to crawl away.”
He Kangshi: “Huh?”
He Kangshi cautiously said, “Boss, are you in a bad mood tonight?”
Exhausted in body and mind, Kui Xin didn’t want to play riddles with Augus.
“Forget it, tell him that if he wants to kill me, he’d better come to Tonglin City quickly; if he doesn’t want to, he should get lost. Annoying people with his whining.”
This line from Kui Xin turned into a string of convoluted thoughts for He Kangshi, leaving him stunned, excited, yet anxious all at once.
He opened translation software and cleverly rephrased it in a style characteristic of Black Snake: “I’ve started to grow tired of boring games; let’s play something stimulating. I am in Tonglin City. If you want to kill me, come here; don’t just talk without action. It makes me doubt your strength.”
Good, as always, high-end style with a touch of provocation.
Within seconds, He Kangshi received a reply.
It was just a short sentence—“With such warm hospitality, of course I must accept.”
…
When Kui Xin returned home, the first thing she did was check the little white mouse’s cage in the bathroom.
The little white mouse number three she focused on had eaten all the remaining food in its cage and had visibly changed. First, its vertebrae bulged out, and then its fur began to fall out, with its long tail even showing indistinct backward barbs.
“Indeed mutated; contaminated blood can trigger mutations,” Kui Xin confirmed her speculation.
The remaining few little white mice that were injected with highly diluted mutated being blood remained unaffected and were still lively.
Preliminary judgment: “The blood of mutated beings does indeed lose its contaminative properties after dilution…”
She sighed in relief, took a shower, had something to eat, and finally lay down on her bed half an hour later.
On the forum, discussions about the “Shadowless” were rampant.
The author has a note: The codename Dove is derived from the story of Noah’s Ark. When the great flood came, people built the Ark, taking birds and beasts aboard to live. Unsure if the flood had receded, they released a dove to search for land. The dove returned with an olive branch, signaling that the flood had subsided.
The dove is a messenger, bringing news to people. On the Kraken ship, Tang Guan once sent a message to the female protagonist to warn her, hence he chose the codename Dove.
