–Zi Zang.- Zoro, panting and clutching a wooden bench, pushed open the door. As he saw the two figures inside, the words at the tip of his tongue died in his throat.
Jiao Ma narrowed her eyes and frowned at him. –What do you want now, you idiot?-
Then the young girl’s gaze fell on the clothes Zoro had changed into specially after work.
–Hey, you had a hand in wrecking this place, didn’t you?-
Though he had cleaned up, last night’s dust, especially the stains on his shoes, had already given him away. The girl saw through him at a glance.
–I…- Zoro raised his hand.
Yang Zicang, taking advantage of the moment when Jiao Ma turned her head, quickly crouched down and pulled a small cloth bag filled with hard, clinking objects from under the bed.
Jiao Ma turned back. Yang Zicang instantly stood erect, hiding his hand behind his back. His 180 cm height made him look like a little giant in front of the young girl.
–You!- Just as Jiao Ma was about to say something, Zoro darted in and headed toward the small room next door.
The entrance was covered in dense footprints, and not just from one person.
–Hey, Zoro, explain yourselves! What are you two up to?-
–I’m going to the bathroom.-
Zoro twisted the doorknob and slipped inside in a flash.
Jiao Ma took two steps after him but had to stop helplessly.
Then she saw Yang Zicang rush over, twist the doorknob, and quickly push the bag of clinking objects through the crack in the door.
She turned around to see the girl holding a lunch box, tilting her head and frowning as she stared at her.
–Ah, um…– Yang Zicang waved his hand helplessly, leaning against the door. –It’s hard to explain.–
–What did you just give him?–
–Toilet paper.–
……
It took nearly half an hour before they finished eating and Jiaoma left satisfied.
Yang Zicang paced to the door, tempted to knock several times but restraining himself.
After another ten minutes, the faint energy fluctuation inside reappeared. Yang Zicang finally couldn’t help asking:
–Did it work?–
A buzzing sound came from inside. –Failed for the eighth time.–
Yang Zicang’s heart tightened. He feared the Shinian Moxel wouldn’t be enough.
–I’ll go buy some right away. I hope among the people who entered the company, there’s still someone with Shinian Moxel.–
–Wait,– Zoro twisted the door open, gazing gravely at the young man outside.
–I still have four Shinian Moxel here. Plus what you have left, let’s use them up first. Although making them doesn’t violate the rules, it’s best if we don’t attract attention.–
–Okay, as you say.– Yang Zicang glanced at the scar-faced man, who was exceptionally reassuring. –As long as you have confidence.–
–Hmph, what, don’t you believe I’ll succeed? I’m terrifyingly confident now.–
Zoro raised his hand and made a grabbing motion. –That feeling again, and it’s getting stronger—that intense urge! I feel I can do it. Tonight.–
Light flickered in Yang Zicang’s eyes. He had felt something similar before, and now he was certain it was the help of the –Authority of Mental Manifestation-!
This truly is an incredible treasure.
–Then let’s hurry up and continue. By the way, what rank did you draw?-
–Second class.-
–Second… class?!-
Yang Zicang thought Zorro must have drawn the first prize to be so confident.
The door clicked shut, and Zorro began a new round of ritual in the restroom.
The ninth time, a failure…
Zorro took a deep breath, closed his eyes again, and concentrated on the places he remembered most vividly in the Lost Frequency Land. Then he controlled the broken line of Moxel to extend to his fingertips, touching the rotating mass of energy ahead.
As his fingertips wavered, a rough magic pattern appeared, which suddenly contracted into the rotating energy mass, vaguely taking the shape of an engine.
Zorro quickly tossed a triangular Lost-Mind Moxel into it, and the shape of the engine instantly became more real. However, it was different from ordinary Lost-Mind engines—it was dark and ethereal.
Although the small engine seemed on the verge of completion, Zorro felt no joy at all, because this had happened many times before: everything looked perfect up to this point, yet ultimately failed. The reason was simple—he was using a triangular Lost-Mind Moxel.
A three-cylinder engine can’t drive the manifestation of the ether channel.
–Hoo~- Zorro watched nervously as it slowly sank into the energy mass. Suddenly… pfft…
The three-cylinder little engine turned into a puff of smoke once more—another failure.
Zoro lowered his head, staring at the handful of Lost Memory Moxels left in the cloth bag on the toilet lid.
Outside the door, Yang Zicang quietly leaned against the wall, waiting.
The true production deadline for the Demon Hero Hall was less than two months away. He had already decided: if today didn’t work, he’d take leave tomorrow and search every department for usable Lost Memory Moxels—but doing so might alert Croft.
Suddenly, Yang Zicang felt a vague ripple in the space around him.
Bang! The toilet door swung open in an instant. The man inside thrust himself out, his face alight with excitement, and stared eagerly at Yang Zicang, who was leaning against the wall outside.
Yang Zicang turned to look at that exhilarated face. –You…–
Zoro nodded. He spread his palm open, and there, rotating with a dim gray sheen, a dreamlike Lost Memory Engine swayed left and right like condensed mist in his hand!
[I have seen the –Sub-Ether Channel Engine.–]
–It worked!– Yang Zicang clenched his fist involuntarily, barely suppressing the urge to cheer.
Catching his breath, Zoro said, –It worked—but the location is a place where I once lingered for a long time, and the engine can only be used once.–
Yang Zicang studied the engine; it was eighty to ninety percent similar to the one in the photo.
–To make a Lost Memory Engine like this, all you need are Lost Memory Moxel, past memory images, intense longing, and a magic runic formula.– Zoro smiled at him. –That’s everything.–
Because of the existence of the magic pattern technique, Zoro did not fully disclose the secret.
–Go ahead.- Zoro raised his hand and extended the engine to Yang Zicang. –The night is still long. Go do what you want.-
Yang Zicang looked up at him. –Didn’t you say it can only be used once? Fine, I’ll go out tonight and buy more Forgetfulness Moxel.-
–No.- Zoro smiled. –You forgot, we can still make trial samples. Otherwise, where did those photos come from?-
–Wow! That’s right!-
Yang Zicang was so happy it felt like he was back on Earth, back in the good old days of hanging out with his dorm buddies. He grabbed the engine.
Inside the office of the Red General Director.
Huan Bao’er sat in the chair, irritably looking at the progress report of the Green Lotus Crown.
……
Knock knock.
Click. The door opened.
Yang Zicang pushed open the door, and a cool breeze brushed across his face from the distant mountains and green grasslands.
He glanced at the green grass behind the door, as if it were a pure world straight out of a fairy tale.
This solitary door stood quietly on the gentle hillside.
In the distance was a small manor, like a princess’s little fortress.
A dozen minutes later, Yang Zicang walked out of the door with a wooden pomegranate pendant.
……
In the low-frequency land shrouded in dark curtains, faint light reflected the undulating mountain ridges.
–Woo—-
Amid the cheerful sound of wind, a train burst through the air, appearing beside Yang Zicang.
In the darkness, a white zigzag line flashed out, shooting toward the distant Hub Town.
{Zicang?}
–Boboli, there’s an urgent mission.-
–Eh?- Boboli, who was reciting the pronunciations of the Thousand Character Classic over and over, looked at the telepathic screen. –Mission? Me?-
He didn’t think he could be of much help. In this world, he was like a welcomed outsider. Apart from his Moxel ability, he couldn’t really be of much practical use.
On the open plain, the train stopped behind this tall, straight figure. The man looked up into the dimness above and below, and at the faint light in the boundless distance.
–I’ve thought through everyone. Among all the people I know, only you are capable of this mission.-
Boboli looked at the telepathic screen in confusion.
–Me? Me? Do you need some kind of power-leveling?-
Yang Zicang shook his head. Light and shadow flickered on his chest, and a massive luminous building appeared in the night.
[Mo Ying Hall — Crown of Green Lotus]
The boy looked at this building with complex internal structure, and for a moment he didn’t understand what it was.
Another beam of light shot out, outlining a new large building beside it.
[Mo Ying Hall — Fortress of Ten Thousand Paths]
Its walls became translucent, and with the help of the –Mind Manifestation Authority-, the structure inside quickly revealed itself.
–This, this is…-
Boboli looked at some familiar scenes inside.
–Amazing, to be able to fit so many levels harmoniously together. So many, can a person even complete all of this?-
This voice continued to echo in his heart.
{In the spiritual world, construct an arena similar to theirs, capable of accommodating at least twenty thousand people, within one month and ten days!}
Twenty thousand people! Popoli’s spirit was shaken.
{With your experience, can you design something similar to theirs?}
–What!- Popoli’s eyes shot wide open.
In Syn-Link, that solitary, upright figure standing between heaven and earth seemed like a guide granting special power.
{A task like this.}
–Is the task you’re talking about…?!-
{Do you dare to take up the challenge?}
Popoli slowly lowered his hands that had been gripping the Thousand Character Classic, his mouth gradually falling open.
It can’t be real, can it?
–Whoa!-
The boy leaped up, his fists flailing wildly as if trying to pierce the sky.
Yang Zicang chuckled. In an instant, the train rushed in and gently swallowed him, churning the air as it vanished into the night sky.
Meanwhile, the curly-haired teenager busily pulled out from under his bed boxes of various cartridges, board games, chess sets, and game guides.
They had long been useless.
But the boy simply couldn’t bear to throw them away, even collecting more from all sorts of abandoned buildings across the city.
Because they were probably the last spiritual connection to Earth.
As his hand touched each worn-out cartridge, countless memories of joyful times surfaced.
Scenes of playing games with his little brother, with his father, with the neighbor kids…
In his eyes sparkled the same light that had shone when he first discovered these things.
At some point, without his noticing, the endless repetitions and the same fixed routes gradually caused him to lose his special feelings for them.
Now, these emotions, long buried in the passage of time, suddenly surged back.
Popoli pulled out an old disc. The unopened plastic cover seemed as if it would shatter at a touch, and the disc inside had long become unreadable—not that there was anything left to read.
But now, he held it tightly in his hand, a glint shining in his eyes.
The castle and monsters from the disc naturally appeared in the boy’s mind.
[I… seem… to have remembered something.]
Popoli looked down at his chest.
The silver-white ring had actually appeared on its own.
The light outlined a slowly rotating triangle. Amid this purest, happiest, and most intense emotion, something seemed to be gestating.
A few seconds later, the silver ring faded away, and ultimately, nothing unusual remained.
The youth, about sixteen or seventeen, stood up and gazed at the night outside the window. He pushed open the window, and the night breeze brought with it the arrival of a new day.
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