Chapter 26 High-Risk Experimental Subject

Chapter 26 High-Risk Experimental Subject

Jue gazed into his eyes and remained silent for a moment.

Jing Rong said, "Chief, what did you do inside my head?"

This time, Jing Rong didn’t feel deeper pain—only an instinctive sense that Jue had secretly left something in his mind.

626 said, "He stole the newly formed psychic fragment. That’s some nerve."

In the entire universe, there was only one person who dared to steal a freshly regenerated psychic fragment from an Executive—no one else would dare.

Jing Rong chuckled. "Really? What was it like?"

626 replied, "I didn’t look, but he replaced it with one of his own psychic fragments. Let me see… Ah, he gave you his happiest memory. From before he met you."

Jing Rong closed his eyes.

He saw the memory Jue had exchanged with him.

It was from Jue’s youth—older than childhood but younger than now, a slender, pale teenager in a lab-issued prisoner garb.

In the lab, four days a week were dedicated to testing psychic torment agents, determining which substances could destroy high-level psychic energy. One day was reserved for weapon testing, also targeting psychic abilities.

The lab wouldn’t kill him—he was their only SSS-grade specimen.

But they didn’t spare him either. Shackled and sealed inside an indestructible transparent chamber, they constantly warned him: if he dared act recklessly, they would kill his people before his eyes.

Only on one half-day each week was Jue allowed outside for a brief walk.

Even then, his movement was strictly confined within the prison walls.

All he could see was limited to concrete grounds, artificial grass, and a hazy, grayish sky overhead.

In this life, he had a younger brother.

A red-haired boy, also sent to the lab—the child of a member of the rebellion, named John.

They weren’t related by blood, but that didn’t matter. Jue didn’t care. The boy was even younger, the youngest in the whole lab.

Though Jue had been raised in the lab since age six, he still believed he had to be an older brother.

During their walks, he would play games with him.

Old injection records were collected and slowly folded into a paper sword.

Jue’s thin hands were covered in bruises and needle marks, yet they remained steady—his folded sword was perfectly crisp.

John loved that sword and told him a story he’d heard from his parents—about a legendary Sword King.

John said, "Brother, long, long ago, in a faraway land, there was a sword of immense power. Whoever wielded it could rule the earth. All evil would perish, all demons would flee in fear. The sword’s master could bring peace and happiness."

Jue listened intently.

"The sword was studded with the finest gems in the world—even a single shard was priceless… The hero was a young wanderer who set out to find it…"

Jue, then a teen, and John, just eight, excitedly added to the story, growing more excited and hopeful as they went.

Jue said, "I think the sword should be golden." So they stole brass powder and dusted the paper blade with it.

John said, "It needs lots of gems."

Jue excelled at this task, shaping melted needles into gems and attaching them.

They spent countless afternoons perfecting the sword. With scarred hands, he crafted the hilt, embedded the gems, and sharpened the edge—lighting up John’s eyes with joy.

That was Jue’s happiest memory.

Jing Rong finished viewing the fragment.

He asked, "What happened… to his brother later?"

626 hesitated. "His brother’s level wasn’t high. He couldn’t endure many experiments."

The words were already carefully worded.

Jing Rong said, "He doesn’t need to know the rest."

626 agreed. "Agreed."

Jing Rong opened his eyes.

Jue was tying a small vial with a strip of leather—both psychic fragments now sealed inside.

The fragments were so small they soon dissolved into fleeting glimmers.

Once secured, Jue hung it around his neck like a pendant.

He didn’t know Jing Rong had discovered the swap.

Jue acted casual. "You blacked out for a moment. Or maybe just fell asleep."

Jing Rong played along, rubbing his temples. "Did I?"

Jue handed him re-warmed coffee. "Drink this. It’ll help your mind recover."

Jing Rong accepted it without comment.

Jue watched him closely, relieved when Jing Rong didn’t seem to notice.

That night, Jing Rong noticed Jue’s fingers clutching the vial tight, even asleep.

*

The blizzard brought no shortage of dangers.

Beyond the cold and altitude, finding their way was the toughest.

Visibility dropped to half a meter—even face-to-face, they could barely see or hear each other.

Jing Rong tethered Jue with a hundred-meter rope, like he would when guiding kids on climbs. He scouted ahead, packing down the snow, then returned to guide Jue.

Jue stayed close.

The explorers were right—this place was beyond human limits.

With visibility near zero, they couldn’t even make out each other’s faces, even hand in hand. They inched forward, meter by meter.

626 reported, "Temperature: thirty-three below. Going higher, oxygen would thin and temps could plunge to a hundred twenty below."

Jing Rong held tight to the safety line, relying on its tension to gauge Jue’s movements.

The vibrations from the rope were growing increasingly intense and erratic, yet the pace didn’t slow. Amid the blizzard's roar, Jing Rong could hear Jue’s strained breathing nearby, painfully controlled.

Jing Rong tugged on the safety rope and halted, waiting until Jue bumped into him before reaching out to wipe the ice and snow from Jue’s face.

Jue said, “I’m fine, brother. Let’s keep going.”

Jing Rong checked his pulse—steady despite the blizzard. But Jue’s pulse was chaotic, revealing the extreme agony of hypoxia and freezing cold.

In such harsh conditions, both physical ailments and mental scars were savagely reawakened.

Jing Rong reached out and took all of Jue’s burdens onto himself. Jue gritted his teeth, his fingertips pressing against Jing Rong’s hand.

A wave of warmth and heat melted the snow around them, the high temperature transmitting through the climbing rope.

626 exclaimed, “He’s practically suicidal! His own condition is already terrible, yet he’s still releasing spiritual energy at such intensity!”

Jing Rong turned his hand over, clasping Jue’s reassuringly. He shouted over the wind, carrying his words to Jue’s ears.

“Thank you. You’ve helped me greatly. We’ll descend soon.”

Jing Rong withdrew. The rope’s warmth faded inch by inch with distance, but it still provided a steady stream of heat.

They were comrades-in-arms now. Even if Jing Rong told Jue that such extreme conditions would barely harm him, Jue would still fight to channel heat for him.

If Jue didn’t do this, he wouldn’t be Jue anymore.

It was death that had granted him luck and courage.

Jing Rong lifted his gaze. Snow clung to his lashes, locking the world in ice.

626 warned, “Electrical storms are affecting this mountain. There may be violent thunderstorms in the snow—possibly even a thunderstorm zone.”

Jing Rong replied, “Understood.”

626 added, “Be extra careful on this stretch. Even we aren’t immune to danger.”

Jing Rong said, “Alright.”

As a long-serving Executive, he understood the situation clearly. Nature's fury could be more terrifying than ruthless enemies.

What he sought to alter was the fate of a doomed soul—a hope so faint it was nearly nonexistent.

Jing Rong moved swiftly through the snow, frost coating his lashes and hair, his breath freezing in the air.

Half an hour later, the storm eased slightly. The thunder ahead grew denser.

Visibility finally improved to within ten feet.

Jing Rong untied the rope from his waist and went to retrieve Jue. Jue’s eyes were nearly shut, his hair frosted over with snow. He didn’t see Jing Rong and began to collapse forward, but at the last moment, instinctively slammed his ice axe into the ground, propping himself up briefly.

Then Jing Rong caught him.

Jing Rong said, “Here, drink some hot chocolate.”

He unscrewed the insulated flask from their supplies and built a small fire in a sheltered spot, though the flames were flickering out rapidly, unlikely to last long.

Jue croaked, “Brother… leave me here.”

“You—” Jue coughed violently, his organs feeling frozen. He knew he was dying. “Go ahead… see it for me… then return to them.”

Jing Rong’s voice was calm, steady, and strangely soothing: “You won’t die. Remember? There are still things only you can do in this world.”

Amid the deafening wind, Jing Rong fed Jue the hot chocolate, then said, “Come. I’ll carry you the rest of the way.”

Jue opened his blue eyes, his gaze unfocused, but he obediently leaned onto Jing Rong’s back.

Jing Rong glanced at the thunderstorm zone ahead. “His mental state is deteriorating. The climate here strongly affects mental energy.”

626, jolted awake by the reminder, gasped, “Got it! Let me check—damn, I see it now! The mental pollution here is at 700! It was zero at the base!”

626 muttered, “This place is unnatural! Brother, it’ll only get more dangerous ahead. Watch your step!”

Jing Rong nodded, secured the insulation blankets around them, and pressed forward.

The thunderstorm zone was bedlam—whirling stones, violent electromagnetic radiation, and massive charge buildup gathering in the air.

The next major strike would come within minutes.

As Jing Rong quickened his pace, he felt Jue stir on his back.

Even without prior experience, Jue could grasp the horror before them.

His voice was weak but firm: “Brother… going alone… too… dangerous…”

Jing Rong replied, “It’ll be fine.”

His tone was light. “If anything happens to you, the world will reset for you.”

Jue, nearly unconscious, couldn’t comprehend the words. He murmured, “Really…?”

“Yes.”

Despite carrying supplies and a grown man’s weight, Jing Rong moved swiftly.

His voice was gentle and steady. “Tell me that story. The one about the wanderer’s sword.”

His presence alone kept Jue’s consciousness tethered. Unaware that Jing Rong had already seen the memory fragment, Jue managed between gasps: “Alright… it’s from my childhood…”

“There was… a sword… it would bring peace… and happiness…”

“But the hero… was a wanderer… the hero…”

Jing Rong prompted, “The hero had vibrant red hair, right? And people praised his eyes—blue ones.”

Jue’s thoughts wandered momentarily. “Y-yes… I think so.”

Jing Rong stared intently at the horizon. A monstrous lightning strike was about to fall.

He flung his iron sword skyward.

The blade soared, diverting the lightning between heaven and earth. The lightning struck the sword just yards away.

The thunderclap was bone-rattling, threatening to burst internal organs.

Jing Rong also coughed up blood, which froze almost instantly.

Undeterred, he continued, “The hero was born a wanderer… drifting everywhere… scrounging, right? Even while digging through garbage, he sought that sword—to bring peace and happiness to the land. That was his dream since he was small.”

Jue’s words came in fragments: "He... scavenged garbage, and one day, he found a sword... but it was rusty, rusted through..."

Jing Rong said, "He knew it wasn’t the legendary sword, but he still used that rusty blade to bravely protect his bullied companions, right?"

The two of them took turns spinning a seamless fairy tale, with Jing Rong casually continuing the story every time Jue responded.

Jue’s psychic energy gradually stabilized, though he remained extremely weak. Still, he didn’t succumb to the blizzard.

Twenty minutes later, Jing Rong crossed the thunderstorm zone and reached the descent location.

Having passed the summit, the most dangerous time was over.

The view before them unfolded.

No longer obstructed by snowstorms or the strange atmospheric distortions, they now faced a colossal glacier, its icy expanse seemingly stretching to the horizon.

626 said, "The psychic corruption level has reached seventeen hundred!"

Jing Rong monitored Jue’s pulse and asked, "What does that mean?"

626 replied, "The Orlk Empire’s mental weapon, 'The Arbiter,' has a contamination index of fifteen hundred. Anyone who steps onto this icefield will experience intense hallucinations, and severe cases may suffer total psychic disintegration."

Jing Rong looked toward a canyon entrance on the western side of the icefield, where there were carefully constructed facilities and settlements, with clear wheel tracks left on the ground.

No signs of people for now.

626 said, "Luckily we didn’t take the main path—this is a gateway to hell. Everyone who enters will hallucinate, and their mental energy will be shattered."

626 added, "But where are the people? I don’t see any traces of activity here, not even corpses."

Jing Rong said, "Under the ice."

626 was startled. "You mean..."

"The hollows beneath the ice are deep, just like the icefield I was in before. There are human ruins and vast caverns from centuries ago."

Jing Rong began untying his equipment ropes, making final adjustments to lighten his load.

Jue’s consciousness slowly returned.

His psychic faculties remained suppressed and impacted, but no visions plagued him and he remained lucid.

Jue whispered, "Brother."

Jing Rong took his hand, his voice calm. "We’re here. Do you want to come with me?"

626, listening nearby, couldn’t hold back. "It’s deadly dangerous down there. He might die."

Jing Rong acted as if he hadn’t heard, his dark eyes steadfast on Jue.

Jue nodded slowly.

Jue said, "Thank you, brother. I want to go with you."

As if sensing something, his fingers lightly curled around Jing Rong’s hand as he spoke slowly and steadily, "Brother, meeting you has been the happiest thing in my life."

If only...

If he could survive beyond tonight...

Jue managed a faint smile.

War left no room for "later." He had never had a "later." He didn’t know how to voice the words that followed.

Jing Rong said, "I know. The honor is mine."

He was far calmer than Jue had expected. And this wasn’t a farewell.

626 asked, "Any bright ideas, man?"

Jing Rong said, "What kind of thing would be fed by so many people’s psychic energy?"

626 hesitated. "You mean..."

Jing Rong continued, "If the bloodlust of thousands of Arbiters can feed a single mental weapon, then what kind of entity would be nourished by the souls of tens of millions—even hundreds of millions—of people sent to war over the past twenty years?"

626 cursed, "Shit, shit... With this level of technology, could they have birthed a World-Class Boss?!"

At that moment, they saw "it."

Jue, too, was drawn by instinct, sharply turning his head before freezing in dumbstruck horror.

Beneath the icefield, all had been still—when "it" emerged, not even the wind changed.

An enormous, mountainous shadow crawled up from beneath the glacier.

It was utter, consuming blackness, devouring everything in its path—human minds, the spirits of birds in flight, even the essence of ice and snow. Where it passed, the ice itself died.

Sensing the presence of living beings and active psychic energy, it began moving step by step toward the mountain. From the summit, its pace didn’t seem fast, but up close, its speed would be terrifyingly apparent.

626 exclaimed, "Shit, shit! I get it now!"

626 desperately searched through the unsolved missions of the Greater World—this was the World Boss that remained unconquered even after eras of attempts, a challenge that transcended time.

"Shit, I found it. Brother, you’ve got a hell of a vacation spot!"

626 shouted, "World 001. The Executive Bureau has dispatched over two hundred Executives, burning through 300K world-hours, and still failed to defeat the monster spawned in this world."

"This is the Orlk Empire’s secret weapon. They forged a collective combat consciousness from countless people’s bloodlust, fear, and thirst for battle. By now, no one can control it anymore. It hungers ceaselessly for blood and slaughter, and they’ve been feeding it with Red Islanders and frontline soldiers. But one day, it will cross this icefield and enter the outside world... and then, nothing will survive."

"This is a classified, horrifying record. No one has ever found a way to deal with it. To this day, it remains the top unsolved problem in the Greater World."

626 asked, "Brother, have you been to this world before?"

Jing Rong said, "No."

Jing Rong had no taste for taking on high-difficulty missions—that was something greenhorn Executives enjoyed, convinced they were the special one who could change the worldline despite countless failed attempts before them.

Jing Rong asked, "If so many Executives have come here before, does that mean this world has undergone many resets?"

His gaze rested on Jue.

Jue was intently watching the distant "it," his piercing blue eyes locked in focus.

Despite being in terrible condition, with barely any attention to spare, Jue was every inch the red wolf ready to pounce the moment battle began.

626 said, "Hold on, I’m filing an inquiry with the Executive Bureau... They’ll cough up the intel."

626 added, "Alright, the Executive Bureau just sent me all the mission logs of past Executives who came here. Yes, this world has been reset 7,841 times."

"Many Executives were crushed by mental energy the moment they entered the ice field and were sent back to the prime world."

"Some seasoned Executives took the same path as us, but not all of them made it through the thunderstorm. Only twenty ever faced the BOSS before us, and none survived—all eventually submitted withdrawal requests."

Jing Rong asked, "What were the ranks of those twenty Executives?"

626 replied, "The highest was S-class. So, buddy, are you taking action?"

Jing Rong remained unusually calm. "Might as well try."

His gaze fixed on the colossal horror across the ice field, his presence subtly transformed into something overwhelming.

In the wider world, Jing Rong was rated S-class.

Only the systems that had worked with him knew—his rank was S because S was the highest possible rating.

The Executive Bureau had once debated granting him a dual-S rating, but Jing Rong himself refused.

He had little interest in missions, and long ago, a severe injury during a task had robbed him of part of his memory.

His strongest interest now was still searching for his wife.

Jing Rong asked, "What did those who failed and chose to reset the world try?"

626 answered, "Some went back to earlier timelines to stop the war, but the BOSS still emerged. Others persistently severed the war train routes, but the Olk Empire quickly deployed aircraft... The current of fate is relentless. Who knows who might stop it next?"

"What about Jue?"

Jing Rong asked quietly.

626 said, "They knew he wasn’t the Child of the World, so no one paid him any attention. But I can tell you what he did across all these reset timelines."

"He was hunted down hundreds of times by Olk, hundreds more from starvation and cold. The closest he got was finding the route here and boarding the train undetected."

626 scrolled through the database. "That was the last reset. But in the end, he couldn’t endure the blizzard and thunderstorm. It’s astonishing—even though he’s not the Child of the World, across thousands of resets, he kept trying every possible way to uncover the truth."

"When he failed in the last world, knowing he’d never reach Ockwellerk, this time he decided to die in a way that would pass his spiritual remnants to future generations, letting them investigate."

"Honestly, he might actually succeed." 626’s voice was laced with disbelief. "He’s just an ordinary man... yet he’s come closest to the truth of this world."

Jing Rong stayed silent.

A solitary wolf, willing to sacrifice everything just to find the world’s answer.

Even Jue himself didn’t know—he had tried over seven thousand times, perished over seven thousand times. In all those attempts, he was nothing more than an ant before the world’s merciless fate.

Jing Rong stood.

Silver light shimmered, wind swirling around him, coalescing into a force like dawn’s first light in his grasp.

Jing Rong said, "I don’t have the habit of resetting worlds."

His eyes, cold and steady as ever, locked onto the twisting dark behemoth on the glacier. But the sharp killing intent radiating from him had already begun to put the creature on edge.

"I won’t watch him perish in front of me."