Morris’s firm, powerful fingers pressed down on the dial pad, rotating to 2… 0…
One digit after another slid into place.
The moment he confirmed there was no mistake and pressed the pound key, a wailing howl erupted from the earpiece, as if a torrential flood were thundering across the sky and earth.
A stifling unease swiftly coiled around his heart; Morris felt his thoughts uncontrollably drifting into the unknown, as if swept into the torrent of time, or rushing toward a void where time utterly ceased to exist.
If my Chronos is nullified, Lady Myaphid paid 3000N for me.】
{Future code successfully synchronized.}
{Beep-beep-beep, I’m simulating a busy signal, hoping that a familiar sound eases your restless wait.}
With a soft –click,– all strange sensations vanished; the only difference was a faint breath now whispered through the earpiece, as if someone had already answered the call on the other side of the void.
{The clock starts ticking.}
–Hallo…–
{Past me, hello.}
–You… um, me?–
His mind went momentarily blank; unsure whether the greeting should be –hello– or –me,– Morris heard those words, shook his thoughts clear, and said, –Hi, future me, did you find Julia?–
{She might be on Earth, and she might be safe.}
Hearing this, Morris leaned back in his chair with a wave of relief washing over him.
So she didn’t come to this world after all.
Good, good—the constant worry in his heart finally let go. Yet the longing and pain of losing his beloved surged back in the next second, but at least this time, only he alone had to suffer.
As long as she never entered this godforsaken world, then everything would be fine.
–Good. Future me, how were things for me back then? Did Yang Zicang grow stronger? And me—did I get a little stronger?–
With his deepest wish settled, Morris had no other particular questions. To avoid wasting time, he casually picked a topic, figuring it wouldn’t hurt to learn a bit about the future.
{Yang ZiCang has been missing for a long time. I’ve been treated as a dispensable spare in the new team. Our captain now isn’t him, but…}
–Huh?– Morris paused stunned, then said with a rueful sigh, –Mm, he must have saved up ten thousand years of Chronos and gone to that place, right.–
So that meant, following his original plan, he’d been stuck in Hubville all along. The team he met later didn’t treat him well?
That must be because the future new team didn’t need battles like Yang ZiCang’s—just petty ChronosInvest skirmishes. That’s why they didn’t care about his abilities.
But why not leave? Could it be that he hasn’t found a more suitable team yet? Morris’s thoughts drifted, tinged with a hint of disappointment.
Yet the voice on the other end spoke:
{No, Morris of the past. I have waited long for this call; time is pressing, so please listen carefully to what I am about to say.}
–What?–
Morris suddenly heard a flurry of English conversations on the other end.
His mind raced wildly, as if he suddenly grasped why his future self insisted on using Chinese to communicate at this moment.
Into the receiver, Morris urged urgently:
{In the Shibin Wastes, there exists an organization called Shí Qiān; their core was once a corpse, and that very corpse was the original Shí Qiān. A certain surgeon with a special ability, codenamed Bandaid, dismembered the original dead Shí Qiān and grafted its organs and body parts onto himself and many others, thereby obtaining the ability to extract others’ Moxel!}
He spoke with astonishing speed, as though he had repeated this sentence over and over, striving in this fleeting moment to deliver it clearly and swiftly.
{That ability is called [Chronos Migration]. It allows the user to completely transfer their Chronos Moxel into the grafted organs for storage and trading.}
–What do you mean?–
Upon hearing these unexpected revelations suddenly poured out from the other end, an overwhelming sense of unpredictability assailed Morris’s heart.
His own future suddenly felt like a slippery fish, beginning to writhe and slip from his grasp, and he could barely hold onto it.
{If the extra abilities they gained are not used to replace the –Chronos Migration Moxel,-** they will only remain within their bodies for up to seven days. As for the Chronos Migrators, besides the seven-day trial, they can also replace their Moxel entirely—but doing so would cost them the ability of Chronos migration.**}
Morris was stunned. The ability to replace the Moxel—it was practically a divine skill.
{Based on our current intelligence, there should still be about six or seven people in the Chronos Migrator team during your period. The one who ultimately obtained Yang ZiCang’s ability is named Chu Jun. In the now of the future, he is also known as the Divine Wind Knight Chu Jun—he is terrifyingly powerful.}
–Wait! You said—ultimately obtained Yang ZiCang’s ability?–
Someone had obtained Yang ZiCang’s ability?!
Morris felt as if he had been struck with a blunt blow out of nowhere.
This news left him dazed—disturbed by Yang ZiCang’s fate, and even more lost about his own choice ahead.
That man—his name was Chu Jun?
–Time is running out,– Mai Ya said.
The rapid voice over the receiver left no room for Morris’s thoughts to wander.
–The one who stole it might not be this person. Because so far, he hasn’t been seen using more Moxel abilities than Yang ZiCang. Anyway, beware of a guy named Lee Shangxiang—that image is the original appearance of Shi Qian, and there are sightings of him all over the Shibin Wastes. They all call themselves Lee Shangxiang, and only by replacing the Moxel can one shed that appearance.–
Morris listened to this news with a heavy heart.
_-**Shi Qian gained Yang ZiCang’s trust and then stole all of his Chronos abilities.
Remember, any ability obtained through Moxel is part of Chronos—so that means the train, his Paleshade Wyrm, and even the Emblem that could still be used once have all become another’s.
I haven’t seen Mr. ZiCang in a long time, and neither the members of his Cargo Crew nor QuadRobin Lo have been able to find him. Yang might already be dead by now._-**
Sitting in his chair, Morris felt a wave of dread wash over him.
He had initially planned to ask if he had managed to buy a shopfront in Hubville, only to receive such horrifying news.
This meant that in the future, Yang ZiCang would likely become an ordinary person trapped in the Shibin Wastes—and people like that can barely survive.
–Thirteen seconds left,– the lady reminded him gently.
–As for timing—if I remember correctly—shortly after you finish this call, about half a month later, I won’t be able to get in touch with him anymore.–
–After the call, the future will be anchored, won’t it…–
Two weeks? Morris felt a pang of regret and anxiety. This call—was it really to the future, or had he chosen one out of countless possibilities?!
Suddenly, he regretted making this call.
{The future will be anchored. An anchored future is destiny—but this applies only to us! Morris, go and help Yang ZiCang weather through that crisis. The future self I have already prepared for sacrifice; I don’t like this future. What I want… is a future with Julia!}
–She didn’t come over after all…–
{She left with someone else! She doesn’t love me anymore! I want to change it, but the person she chose isn’t worth entrusting with…}
–What!–
Morris’s heart suddenly clenched tight.
–What nonsense are you talking about! Where on earth is she?!–
{Anyway, if you succeed… Six months later, you’ll probably know why. That’s all I can reveal about Yang ZiCang’s future—there’s still a chance to change it. I… cough, cough … I… truly… you must have done it… I’m free…}
Click.
The call seemed to end. A wave of dizziness hit Morris as if his very soul was gouged and slashed.
That self of his should be dead.
No—utterly gone…
And yet, they’d spoken of delivery…
What exactly was this new team… He had actually sought death in the future.
Morris was in a daze, his mind clouded.
Recalling the words, –She left with someone,– Morris could truly feel the agony and heartbreak his future self had endured.
–What the hell happened to the future?–
He closed his eyes in anguish, lowering his head.
–Looks like I’ve got another disappointed customer. Well, the call timing’s perfect—though there are still two seconds left.–
The woman glanced indifferently at the phone.
The person on the other end had heard bad news, but she had seen enough of this type. Most people didn’t have much fondness for their own futures.
It cut off with two seconds remaining—meaning the future receiver no longer existed.
This meant the person before her no longer had a future.
This man who knew the future had likely chosen to change it. But doing so meant he would probably die mysteriously amid the interference of time and space—that was the price of altering an Anchor Future.
–Sorry about that, sir,– the lady with the vividly painted lips chuckled.
Though this was an attack from her parasitic Nightmare, it wasn’t something she could control.
She never intended to attack anyone; it was they themselves who struck each other.
Suddenly, the phone receiver that had yet to be set down crackled back to life.
{Hello, Mr. Morris.}
The woman across the table arched an eyebrow in surprise.
In her perception, the call had truly ended, but the time that had just stopped began its countdown anew.
–Two seconds left.–
Regardless, the service continued, the red Moxel glowing on the woman’s chest as it reminded her. Though after speaking those words, only one second remained.
–Hello, you—–
{I am Hong Haocheng, speaking to you from ten thousand years in the future. Tell Yang ZiCang not to go for the kill against the fledgling me.}
Madam Wheat Aphid stared solemnly at the receiver.
{We will become brothers in arms, fighting side by side through life and death. And you, my partner, let us journey together to the end of that possibility—summon Boboli as well.}
Morris was stunned.
Equally stunned was the woman across from him. The nightmare call’s connection to the future had lengthened—no, not lengthened; rather, after this second’s consumption, it reemerged, as if this very second kept resurrecting and repeating itself.
The voice sped up, as if fast-forwarding, delivering a long string of words almost within a second, yet still allowing her to distinctly hear every single syllable.
{We must craft the ending from the very beginning… Hello, I may be speaking to you from ten thousand and three hundred years later… Tell Yang ZiCang to abort the Great Transfer Plan… I’m at eleven thousand… the Lead Tower Project also failed… Our…}
Before Morris could even process the first sentence, the second, third, and fourth came overlapping, crashing into his ears.
{Hello, Mr. Morris from the distant past. It’s truly difficult to reach you. Listen closely—the only future that might work is… DNA.}
Countless overlapping voices of the call surged in.
{Hello, Mr. Morris…}
Vroom! An intricate, triple-layered circular magic array suddenly appeared before Morris’s eyes.
[My spirit trembles.]
[I see what I shouldn’t; I cannot close my eyes; I am staring directly into it…]
[I smell its scent,]
[I hear its voice,]
[I behold its form.]
Crack!
In less than a microsecond, the phone let out a strained groan, and the connection snapped instantly.
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