Chapter 203

Chapter 203

Unsure if Su Xu could fully grasp the concept, Wei Pan still tried to explain it in simpler terms: "In physics, there's no traditional past or future. But there is one way to rapidly compress time—by utilizing the high-speed rotation of spacetime distortion at the edge of a black hole's event horizon. By securing a person or object with immense gravitational force and retrieving them at the predetermined time, a time difference occurs due to gravitational redshift in general relativity, achieving a form of time travel."

Su Xu strained to follow but managed to respond, "So, to achieve the effect of a time machine, we'd need a massive space station operating at full capacity in space, ensuring it isn't sucked into the black hole while precisely anchoring the subject for traversal?"

"Theoretically, yes. But no one has ever attempted it," Wei Pan replied, catching the fleeting disappointment in Su Xu's eyes before adding, "I remember you mentioning your childhood. Is that the time you'd want to return to?"

Su Xu's expression darkened as he lowered his head with a sigh. "I know it's impossible to go back."

He fell silent, staring intently at the machine inside the display case for a long while.

"So, why have you been avoiding me all this time?" Wei Pan seized the opportunity to ask directly now that he had Su Xu cornered.

Su Xu lifted his gaze to meet Wei Pan's eyes and countered with a question of his own: "Wei Pan, if you were Oliver, faced with that dilemma back then, what would you have chosen?"

The issue troubling him was too difficult to voice outright, so he opted for an indirect approach.

Wei Pan didn’t answer immediately, shaking his head instead. "But I'm not him. And besides, Lady Lydia shouldn’t be a choice for me to make."

"No, what I meant was—"

Seeing Su Xu hesitate, Wei Pan turned the question back on him: "Then let me ask you—between destroying HOM and me... no, between destroying HOM and staying at the institute to live peacefully, which would you choose?"

A glimmer of understanding passed through Su Xu's eyes as the turmoil that had plagued him for days began to ease. "By habit, I would've chosen the former. But now, staying here doesn't seem like such a bad option."

This place reminded him too much of the laborers' district he’d once lived in. Perhaps it was the unresolved regret in his heart—he wanted to establish his own place here, just as Apa had hoped for him. In this cruel, decaying world, he longed for a place he could call "home."

Pursing his lips, he frowned slightly. "If I had the ability, couldn’t I choose both?"

He still regretted failing to protect the laborers' district back then. But during his stay at the institute, he’d experienced unprecedented care and kindness, witnessing warmth unlike anything in Matia. It had rekindled his faith in humanity.

If he ever faced such a choice again, he wouldn’t let history repeat itself.

Wei Pan gave a soft chuckle. "I’m not entirely sure what’s troubling you, but given the sudden comparison to Oliver, I can guess a little."

Edging slightly closer, he spoke with measured clarity: "Then my answer is the same as yours. Between you and the institute, I’d fight to protect both. Su Xu, you and the institute are equally important to me."

Su Xu stared into those clear, bright eyes, his own reflection staring back at him. For a moment, all he heard was the frantic thumping of his heart.

Wei Pan took a small step forward, bridging the gap between them. Noticing Su Xu’s hesitation only made his resolve firmer.

"Su Xu, I don’t mind if you vent your emotions around me. In fact, it makes you feel more alive. Just don’t bottle things up—if you have doubts or unhappiness, talk to me."

Su Xu was temporarily at a loss for words. After a long silence, he finally asked, "Why aren’t you angry? My attitude toward you hasn’t been good."

Without hesitation, Wei Pan smiled and replied, "Should I repeat what I said before? Su Xu, I—"

"Alright, that’s enough!" Su Xu interrupted him, raising a hand to stop another confession.

The rhythmic slapping of waves against the ship’s hull echoed like the pounding of his heart, growing louder and faster. He instinctively suppressed his ability to sense underwater disturbances, his focus entirely on the person standing before him, making solemn promises.

How ridiculous.

What had he been agonizing over all these days? Agonizing over incomplete assumptions, selfishly distancing himself from someone who genuinely cared—how ungrateful could he be?

He didn’t know what Wei Pan had been thinking back then. But after everything they’d been through, no matter what doubts clouded his judgment, he should know Wei Pan’s character by now. He should trust what he’d seen with his own eyes.

"Why is the sea so rough all of a sudden?" Wei Pan paused mid-sentence, turning toward the window at the sound of the surging tide. Apologizing briefly to Su Xu, he sent a quick message to Oliver, warning him to alert the field teams about the rough seas and advising camp leaders to watch for abnormal currents.

Su Xu stood silently nearby, well aware that the sudden disturbance was likely caused by his own emotional fluctuations. He coughed lightly, guilt pricking at him.

He hadn’t expected the churning waves to cause unrest even among the massive airships above.

According to recent data from the offshore stations, the Analysis Center had predicted calm winds and clear skies for the day. The abrupt anomaly disrupted their complacency, throwing them into panic as they hurriedly reported the situation to the command center, urging the Vanguard at sea to stay alert. Matia couldn’t withstand further losses.

Representing the Analysis Center, Hanson rushed toward the central elevator without delay. But catching snippets of conversation along the way made him unconsciously slow his pace despite himself.

"Why is this still under repair? It’s endless! The cafeteria hasn’t served meals in three days. Are all the supplies going into reconstruction? At this pace, we’ll starve before Matia is rebuilt!"

"Supplies from the underground city are dwindling. The Materials and Energy Department wouldn’t dare short the upper levels, so they’re cutting our rations instead!"

One Vanguard member whispered suspiciously to his comrades, "What’s going on with the underground base lately? The food shipments have dropped so much—it wasn’t like this before. And now Matia’s issued another recruitment order to the underground city. More people to feed means even less for us."

The nearest teammate frowned. "Wait, didn’t the underground city submit a request saying they’re short on manpower and can’t meet Matia’s demands anymore? Why agree now?"

"We’re desperate for workers. Without them, it’s just a vicious cycle. Matia can’t afford that."

A level-headed voice cut through the grumbling: "Griping here won't help. The higher-ups won’t hear us. Let’s just take a sea mission—maybe we can stop by the underground city if there’s time."

Hanson felt a pang at the words, but he didn't dare show it openly under so many watchful eyes. His gaze swept across the lower levels before settling on the opposite side of the central square.

The lower sectors, ravaged by mutant test subjects, lay in ruins. The artificial twilight from the high walls cast a dim glow over the crumbling remains of Posuo Hall. The crushed plaster walls had been cleared and rebuilt, meticulously re-carved by laborers to mask the decay behind a facade of false splendor.

Nearby, the experimental center was even more desolate. Workers still sifted through the wreckage, occasionally retrieving fragments of torn flesh and bone. To prevent panic, Matia had draped a long cloth over the entrance, but the stench of death seeped through the flimsy cover.

If Posuo Hall and the experimental center were in such states, You Ni Garden was no better off. The women designated for the breeding program had all been taken by the creatures. Until the underground city sent replacements, the vast garden would remain strangely quiet.

"When will this end?" Hanson thought grimly, shaking his head as he stepped into the elevator.

He’d planned to report directly to the command center, but as he approached the command tower, he spotted the newly appointed lieutenant general of the guard standing outside the captain’s office. It wasn't hard to guess that General Mo Le was inside.

Rumors suggested the captain held General Mo Le in high regard, even considering him as the next successor.

The general was said to command great power but ruled with an iron fist—harsh toward subordinates and aloof with colleagues. Yet everyone knew that during the recent catastrophe, when Matia teetered on edge, it was General Mo Le who led the guard in holding the line, buying time for others to escape.

Even working in the Analysis Center, Hanson knew he was nothing in the eyes of Matia’s elite. He’d never interacted with General Mo Le before, accepting the rumors as truth.

But now, he found himself hoping that a Matia under the general’s leadership might fare better. Still, he kept such thoughts tightly locked away, fearing repercussions.

His curiosity got the better of him as he approached the door. Straining his ears, he caught fragments of a heated argument from inside the captain’s office.

Before he could eavesdrop further, the lieutenant general by the door turned a sharp gaze his way. Hanson didn't dare delay, hurrying inside to deliver his report.

The lieutenant general glanced back uneasily. If even passersby could hear the commotion, those stationed outside certainly could.

"Captain, General Huo Feng isn’t wrong. The mutant attacks have intensified lately. The underground city’s defenses are already stretched thin. Matia shouldn’t rush recruitment now."

Mo Le knew the captain wouldn’t like hearing this, but if he didn’t speak up, who would advocate for the underground city?

The captain’s office was minimally decorated, almost austere compared to the rest of Matia’s opulence. Yet upon closer inspection, every furnishing was crafted from the finest materials.

Even the rug beneath their feet—an intricate weave of gold thread, silk, and cashmere—was not some reused artifact. Its vibrant hues marked it as a recent creation.

But this wasn’t the same rug Mo Le had seen during his last visit.

Now, he knelt alone at the rug’s edge, facing the full weight of authority from above, his usual restraint and caution nowhere to be seen.

The captain glared down, grip tightening on the scepter before bringing it down hard on the floor with a resounding thud. Rising to full height, the leader barked, "Mo Le! Have you learned nothing from last time? I am disappointed in you!"

At these words, Mo Le slightly raised his eyes. Over two weeks had passed, yet the whip wounds on his back had not fully healed. Every movement tugged at his muscles, the sharp pain making him feel as if the wounds were tearing open again.

Due to his negligence and incompetence, he had allowed those rebels who threatened Mathea to escape. In the eyes of the leader, his failures were as good as harming Mathea, with the accusation that if humanity's hope were to perish one day, he’d be to blame.

Mo Le had no doubt that if not for the current shortage of manpower, he would have been beaten to death by the captain and his men in their anger after Su Xu and the others left.

Surviving in this hopeless, hollow prosperity was no different from being dead.

In the past, he would think—maybe he should endure a little longer. Even if Mathea had many flaws, at least its heart was in the right place. As long as he led the guard army to uphold their duties, waited for Gabriel to complete the experiments and stop harming people, waited for the underground city base to improve its defenses—perhaps then, the dawn of humanity would truly arrive.

But in the long wait, all he saw was decay. What the guard army defended with their lives was not a safe haven, but a hell where selfish desires led to the suffering of their own kind.

The future of humanity? It existed only in empty slogans.

Finally seeing the truth, Mo Le's eyes filled with sorrow and bitterness, silently laughing at the beliefs he’d clung to—now just a cruel joke.