Twenty Years Ago

An Changsong looked at her. There was no emotion to be read on the woman’s face, but he knew that the iceberg supporting the human world had just cracked beneath the depths of an unseen ocean.

“But what do you mean, my son can be assigned?”

“Do you think he wants to go?”

Before An Changsong could answer, Su Jin added, “As An Changsong, do you want him to go?”

An Changsong was rendered speechless. “You win.”

He thought about it. He wanted it more than anything!

Su Jin said nothing more. She reached out and pressed the communications button.

A cold electronic voice sounded.

“Connect to White Eagle Command.”

Her voice had returned to its usual calm authority. The conversation about her daughter had left no trace in her tone.

…

Elsewhere.

The troop carrier started up again. The rumble of its engine was even more muffled and oppressive than before.

No one spoke inside the vehicle.

The air was stiflingly heavy. The only sound was the faint clinking of metal parts as the vehicle moved.

Wang Shuo leaned against the wall with his arms folded, his eyes fixed on a certain spot on the floor. He remained completely silent.

The student from Yanjing Academy beside him lowered his head even further, wishing he could shrink into his heavy protective suit.

Su Yuehe sat diagonally across from Chen Guan, her hands resting on her knees.

She had chosen to come. When An Changqing had brought her the mission briefing and told her to make her own decision, she had not hesitated.

“We’re about to arrive at the target area. Everyone, prepare yourselves.”

Li Ce’s voice came through the internal communications system from the driver’s compartment, accompanied by a faint trace of static.

The vehicle gradually slowed and finally came to a stop.

The doors opened. No bitter wasteland wind rushed in—only a silence so strange it bordered on the unnatural.

Li Ce leapt down from the driver’s compartment. This time, he had no intention of returning to camp. He carried a military pulse rifle in his hand, and his expression was stern.

“By order of the Councilor, I’m responsible for perimeter security. Be prepared for fire support at any time.”

Modern technological weapons might have limited destructive power, but at least they were plentiful. As long as the enemy’s individual strength wasn’t too absurd, they could handle it.

He nodded at An Changqing. “Stay safe.”

An Changqing acknowledged him and led the team out of the vehicle.

The sight before them brought everyone to a halt.

About fifty meters ahead, space itself was broken.

The light and scenery in that area warped, folded, and reassembled in ways that violated the laws of physics. It was completely different from before.

Within the ghostly blue radiance of the rift, an entirely different scene occasionally flashed into view: a purple wasteland beneath the sunlight, its sky still whole and unbroken, without that enormous wound running through heaven and earth.

“Is that… the Northern Frontier from twenty years ago?”

Li Yuqing murmured to herself and took the first step forward.

The screen of the detector in her hand flickered several times before emitting a faint pop and going completely black.

The smell of something scorched drifted through the air.

“The equipment’s failed.” An Changqing tossed out the words and drew the long sword at his waist.

At that moment, a tremendous psychic pressure descended from all directions.

“Ah!”

One of the students beside Wang Shuo broke down first. Clutching his head, he collapsed to his knees and let out a pained howl.

Another student crumpled immediately afterward, curling into a ball and trembling uncontrollably.

Even Wang Shuo’s face turned deathly pale. His body swayed, and he only managed to stay upright by grabbing Qin Wu.

A faint phantom surfaced around Long Ao’s body as he struggled to hold on.

Su Yuehe also felt the world spin around her. Her temples throbbed violently, and her vision began to blur.

An Changqing stepped in front of her. A clear, icy radiance flowed along his sword as he resisted the invisible pressure.

“Don’t fight it. Follow its flow.”

Chen Guan’s voice reached everyone’s ears. It was calm, yet exceptionally clear.

The black mark in the palm of his left hand flashed once.

In the next instant, a gentle yet incomparably resilient psychic field silently expanded from him, enveloping the twelve-person team.

The psychic pressure—powerful enough to make even a fifth-tier esper lose control of his mind—was quietly devoured the moment it came into contact with the field.

The two students who had been clutching their heads and screaming fell silent. They merely gasped for breath, their faces covered in cold sweat.

Wang Shuo stared blankly at Chen Guan, his mouth slightly open. Shock and confusion mingled in his eyes. He could not understand how this mysterious coffin man, who had always followed at the back of the group without a word, could possess such overwhelming power.

“What was that?” Huo Qixing looked at Chen Guan, his face filled with amazement.

“An application of illusion techniques.” Chen Guan offered the explanation casually, his gaze fixed on the fractured spacetime ahead.

Just then, the distorted, chaotic images suddenly stabilized.

The scene came into focus, presenting everyone with a clear view.

A crude camp.

A young man in a white research coat stood with his back to them, staring at something in front of him.

The sharp outline of his profile was clearly visible. He wore gold-rimmed glasses and looked refined yet haggard.

“Father…” Su Yuehe silently called out in her heart.

Her father as he was now looked no different from the man in the photographs. Both were in the prime of their lives, brimming with confidence and ambition.

The person in the image was Lu Ming, nearly twenty years younger.

The image moved closer.

Only then did everyone see that Lu Ming was facing a corpse sitting cross-legged on the ground.

It could only be called a corpse because the body was emaciated to the point of being little more than skin stretched over bones. Its shriveled skin clung tightly to its skeleton, and there was not the slightest trace of life in its face.

Lu Ming was desperately resisting something. The veins on his forehead bulged, and his lips moved soundlessly.

Then the corpse moved.

Its head slowly lifted, and its empty eye sockets turned toward the direction where the group stood.

Its cracked lips parted. A voice that was both ethereal and unmistakably clear seeped through from that stretch of spacetime once more.

“Don’t come any closer…”

[Bullet comments, protect me! Dad, Mom, Grandma, Grandpa, uncles, aunts—someone save me!]

[Why do these terrifying scenes keep popping up from time to time? Sob… We were lured in just to be slaughtered!]

[This should count as a Lao Su side story now, right? Feels like Lao Su is about to evolve into her final form.]

[Every single one of them is a bitter little melon. They’ve been deceived by the word “genius” for half their lives.]

Chen Guan glanced at the comments, deep in thought. It seemed that An Changqing’s protagonist aura was about to shift again.

This time, the spotlight belonged to Su Yuehe.

And what did “deceived by the word ‘genius’ for half their lives” mean?

People who spoke in riddles deserved to die!

At that moment, the corpse’s empty eye sockets pierced through twenty years of time and met the eyes of everyone present.

“Don’t come any closer…”

After those words came a second time, the ethereal voice faded away.

In the next second, the image of spacetime before them completely collapsed.

The warped, folded fragments of the broken mirror were gone. The area of space directly caved in, forming a pure vortex of darkness with ghostly blue light flowing along its edges.

“Damn it!”

An Changqing shouted sharply.

Terrifying suction erupted from the center of the vortex, sweeping up ice crystals and shattered stones from the ground and forming a gray-white tornado.