In the fleeting moment when the light at the heart of his chest was about to vanish, it fell upon Yang Zicang.
On the floor above, the trio, about to dash out of the exit, suddenly felt the ground tremble beneath their feet.
–What’s going on?–
–That shaking again—could another monster be emerging?–
The two old men’s faces twisted with shock. They rushed toward the stairs in quick strides. Mu Xiaoyu’s expression flickered multiple times. Seeing that Yang Zicang had yet to appear, her anxious tears began to well up.
After a moment of hesitation, she turned to run back, but an aged hand gripped her.
–Don’t go. He made his own choice—let’s respect that.–
–You won’t be of any help.–
From the surrounding walls, strands of black mist began to coalesce.
An unsettling aura spread through the air.
This was indeed another monster on the verge of birth, and its nourishment was the three of them—because faint, intangible energy was seeping from their bodies, resonating in some strange harmony with this creature.
–Maybe he wants to follow Old Huang’s example, huh? Let’s go. This world… there’s no one truly worth trusting.–
The two men urged her on.
After a moment’s internal struggle, the woman nodded and followed the two aging figures as they rushed toward the exit.
Beside the subway platform, Yang Zicang’s body was enveloped in streams of light.
He felt a consciousness invading his mind, still weak as a newly hatched chick, easily within his grasp.
But at the same time, another denser presence was spreading nearby, coming from the floor above.
Within his heart chasm, a radiant light was taking shape.
Minutes passed—second by second—and after a while, Yang Zicang sensed multiple intricate rays of light expanding and contracting at his heart’s core, wrapping him in an intense glow.
Hoo-oo—
A gust of wind rushed out from the tunnel, from the direction the train had departed, as it came hurtling back.
At the subway entrance, Huang Hsu, alongside the enormous caterpillar-like Hell Train, stared into the passage. Within, the atmosphere had become heavy with oppression.
{Bad thing, inside it.}
–Good, good, bad thing. Let’s go devour it.– Huang Hsu walked toward the underground passage, as if possessed.
In the distance, Bai Yuan narrowed his eyes, watching the two monsters that had been chasing him pivot and descend below.
Suddenly, a triangular ray of light, as fine as a thread, materialized before Yang Zicang, and in an instant, he perceived another scene.
It was in the living room of a residential apartment where a man in black robes sat cross-legged on a tatami mat. On the table before him lay a small sculpture, like a hand-crafted figure.
{You have survived, no, not only survived; you’ve endured longer than most.}
–Is that you?–
The voice was familiar—the same person from the bus that day.
He could actually communicate with others without a television, possessing an ability similar to Bai Yuan’s!
{Even though I can hear you when you speak out loud, it would be better to communicate through our minds.}
[What is it you want to say?]
Yang Zicang, sensing the image of the house where that man was located, asked rapidly.
He felt he was at a critical juncture right now.
{What else? Of course, it’s about Chronos. How about a deal? I’ll tell you the way to gain your ability, and you give me Chronos in return.}
[I’m already in the process.]
{That’s why I’m here. Forcing Moxel to coalesce so recklessly isn’t easy to succeed with, and, what’s more, something’s coming. I can tell you a simple method to avoid being devoured and killed by these people.}
Yang Zicang suddenly felt an impulse—a connect, still unstable, that he could forcefully sever.
He didn’t hesitate for a moment; an inexplicable feeling spurred him to make such a decision. Instinct told him this guy was a liar!
{You’ll regret this…}
The rusty-yellow train screeched to a halt, six or seven doors rapidly slid open, and stiff, vacant bodies rose slowly.
Thump, thump, thump…
Yang Zicang could hear the heartbeat echoing from afar—it belonged to some monster being incubated on the floor above.
Had it not been starved of nutrients, it would have already been born.
It was straining with its own breath, desperately striving to come into the world.
The crowd poured out from the crimson-yellow subway doors and surged toward Yang Zicang.
All around him, the walls, lights, advertisements, elevators, even handrails—everything—swiftly dissolved into energy and merged into the small radiant ring at his chest, within which flickered images of twisted rail lines overlapping one another; subway trains shuffled quickly and orderly through the maze.
–Faster—hurry up!–
Yang Zicang’s heart pounded with acute tension; the tide of bodies was just a few meters away.
The outline of the subway station took shape in his mind—twisting and shifting, struggling to form the rudiments of a monster—but it was constantly devoured by the luminous ring on his chest, condensing into a minuscule line of light as thin as a strand of hair.
–Roar…!–
–Devour him—the Parasitic One…–
–He’s eating our kind!–
–Kill him!–
A forest of arms reached out, densely packed and closing in.
All energies turned to light at his chest—the light bent, split into two segments, then folded again into a triangle.
One line of the triangle twisted and stretched, rupturing once more to birth a fresh line, forming a perfect square.
Into his mind poured an endless stream of information, like a screen cascading with data.
[I am Elect, and this is… my initial Moxel.]
Within my perceptual vision, a gleam of light containing information emerged.
[I am Quad.]
[My ability is…]
–Boom!–
He suddenly opened his eyes, a faint, unfinished glow flickering in his pupils.
Square-shaped patterns twisted and revolved around him, while the crowd charging at him seemed to misjudge their target, reaching out with their hands as they ran past.
The surging crowd swirled around him in circles, yet he stood still, motionless, like the eye of a typhoon.
This was the projection of the metro station’s function.
Just as Bai Yuan’s ability was suspected to be a force field.
His own, on the other hand… was Marshalling.
–To think it’s actually a Four-Line.– A short, stout figure appeared inside the train carriage.
His gaze was fierce like a dragon’s, his eyebrows slanted sharply, clad in a suit of dark, metallic armor that resembled low-key metal. On the armor’s shoulders were two blazing eyes, and in his hands, he clutched a thick, black-bound book with a hard cover.
The monster-like eyes on the armor swiveled, fixing their gaze on Yang Zicang.
{You… join us, and you live.}
{Run, and you die.}
–Who are you?–
–I am, Zhang Fei.–
Pointing to the strange, rusty-yellow metro tracks, the man said: –This is, Matt Chao.–
–Hah, hahaha.– A ferocious grin spread across Yang Zicang’s face: –Zhang Fei, you think you deserve that name? Do you believe this is the era of the Three Kingdoms!–
–Wahahaha, what nerve. You’re dead.–
Rumble—a deafening crash erupted from the floor above. The elevator entrance was rammed as the bus monster wedged itself there, the surrounding walls beginning to take on a translucent hue.
The stocky man leaped high, a flickering triangle shimmering over his body.
–Just an ant with only a few years left to live!–
The armored man’s hand glowed with light, bringing immense pressure as his fist smashed through the air.
Yang Zicang’s figure wavered as he slithered through the chaos like a darting fish weaving through a raging current.
–Boom!–
The man plunged into the crowd, smashing several controlled passengers to the ground. A crater appeared in front of him, blood and flesh flying through the air.
He rose, coldly glaring at Yang Zicang, who had fled a few meters away.
These dozens of pursuers hot on his heels were nothing but roadblocks. –Zhang Fei– couldn’t help but think—could that guy’s ability really be disorientation?
But compared to me, he’s still wet behind the ears.
The bus monster enlarged the entrance of the elevator shaft as Huang Hsu’s silhouette appeared at the underground gateway:
–So you’ve also gained an ability. I have to say, your perceptiveness is truly sharp. How does it feel—pretty amazing, right?–
Thud, thud, thud…
The drum-like heartbeat grew ever stronger, along with an increasing sense of oppression.
Yang Zicang felt the square within the circle at the center of his chest continuously radiating impulses of anger and hatred.
Had he swallowed the infant of a monster?
This was the impact the monster had left on him.
He felt a chill running through his entire body, becoming brutal and bloodthirsty.
Suddenly, a faint red circle flickered on the short, stocky man’s chest, and indistinct red threads of light shimmered. He actually stood upside down on the subway station’s ceiling, running quickly before their eyes.
–My surname is Zhang, and this magnificent battle armor’s ability is to gallop like the wind anywhere! What’s wrong with calling it Zhang Fei?!–
{Kill it! Kill it! It dares to reject my identity—kill it!}
The voice of the monster armor howled within his soul.
Turning his head, Yang Zicang saw the upside-down figure rushing toward him, raising a book in both hands and slashing it down like a broad blade.
On the spine of the book, now drawing near, there were four glaringly clear characters: —Romance of the Three Kingdoms.
–Shit!–
Yang Zicang twisted under his feet and pounced behind a giant column.
Boom!
The short, stocky man collided with the column’s head, smashing the corner which crumbled and shattered into a gaping hole.
–Show Romance of the Three Kingdoms to a monster? Why not read Water Margin—there are characters more suited to you.–
–You mongrel!– The stocky man roared in rage.
Yang Zicang’s words seemed to strike a nerve, stirring up some hidden grievance. The man howled and charged in a frenzy.
[Route… Dispatching!]
The 《Quad》 spiked and flickered. In the split second between heartbeats, Yang Zicang brushed past him.
With a thump, a crater appeared beside him.
Yang Zicang twisted his body and dashed toward the opposite subway tunnel. He ran along the tunnel, away into the distance. A group of people leaped down and gave chase.
His chest heaved—even with the aid of 《Moxel》, this series of rapid moves nearly stole his breath.
Ring-ring, ring-ring.
The phone in his trousers pocket vibrated. Gasping, he pulled it out and glanced at the screen. An unfamiliar number—a long string of digits.
His thumb pressed the speaker button directly, listening as he ran.
–You have made a choice.–
–I made a choice?– Yang Zicang panted hoarsely.
–Just as some chose to ‘accelerate,’ you have chosen to ‘destroy.’–
That unfamiliar, steady voice continued.
–Your first inner impulse drove you to make diverging decisions. Now, you and the other side will tread divergent paths, each striving for your own ‘new possibility.’–
–You… called… just for this…?–
–Of course not. I want to help you. Quickly send us a psychic link—it’s a Moxel instinct. You just need to figure out how to use it, and you should know how.–
Prompted by this voice, Yang Zicang instinctively guided the Moxel to emit a flickering silver thread!
One of Quad’s horns stretched out, extending into the nothingness ahead.
[If someone wants to commission me to defeat the pursuer, they might invest in me—provided I’m willing to distribute fifty percent of the Chronos I hunt as bonuses.]
This was both a thought and a voice from the heart.
It was a thought that didn’t belong to itself!
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