Chapter 43: You’ve Been Lying to Me All Along!

Chapter 43: You've Been Lying to Me This Whole Time!

The riot here was caught in time, after all.

The roar of helicopter blades tore through the air as reinforcements barreled in like a thunderbolt. Machine guns spat out dense streams of fire, bullets raining down like a storm, shredding the zombie horde that had been gnawing at the barrier.

Shredded flesh and black blood went flying. In no time, the last of the monsters were wiped out, leaving nothing but a sprawling mess of stinking gore on the ground.

The breath Rong Hua had been clinging to with sheer will finally gave out, and he crumpled into Shu Hanqing's arms.

"Rong Hua... Rong Hua, listen to me, someone's here." Shu Hanqing locked both arms around the body in his hold. "Pull back your ability. Can you hear me... Rong Hua!"

The dark green main vine, which fiercely rejected anyone coming near, sensed its master's will and began to slither back with a rustle.

The massive plant fortress collapsed in an instant. The second blinding light poured down from above, Shu Hanqing instinctively threw up a hand to shield his eyes.

Shi Lei and the others, who'd barely escaped with their lives, slumped to the ground and finally saw waves of fully armed rescue troops charging in over the rubble.

By now, Rong Hua was practically soaked in blood.

Blood from the zombie scratches and the backlash of his own ability streamed steadily down the side of his face and neck.

But even in a deep coma, his arm stayed locked around Shu Hanqing's waist, as if nothing in this world could ever tear them apart.

Lei Zheng, who'd led the team there, took one look at the grim, tangled scene. A vein bulged at his temple, and he muttered a curse under his breath. Then, with a dark look, he waved his hand, signaling the medics not to waste time trying to separate them—just load the two of them, stuck together like glue, onto one stretcher and rush them to the helicopter at top speed.

Inside the cabin, the wind howled and the turbulence was brutal.

Shu Hanqing's face was deathly pale. Ignoring his own mess, he told the medic on board, "Rong Hua got scratched by a zombie. Just now, he took the hit for me to protect me."

Unlike Mu Ye, who'd awakened naturally, Rong Hua had only gotten his ability by force-drinking a high-concentration inducer.

Lei Zheng shot a grim look at the blackened scratch on Rong Hua's shoulder, then grabbed Shu Hanqing's head and twisted it around.

He pulled out a roll of white hemostatic bandage and wrapped it tightly around the swollen lump on the back of Shu Hanqing's head. "Quit your yelling! Your own wound needs treating too!"

In the cramped cabin, the three of them stayed locked in a bizarre pose—Lei Zheng cradling Shu Hanqing's head, Shu Hanqing welded to the blood-soaked Rong Hua in his arms—all the way until the helicopter landed.

The cabin door slammed open. Yan Shenyun, who'd rushed over, looked up and caught sight of this absurd scene.

Yan Shenyun moved fast and precise, jabbing a high-concentration, heavy-duty sedative straight into Rong Hua's neck.

As the drug spread fast, the body that had been locked rigid around Shu Hanqing finally went limp. Only then did the medics swarm in and, with a hell of a lot of effort, pry the two apart.

Yan Shenyun tossed the empty syringe to his assistant and stepped forward with a grim look to check Shu Hanqing's injuries.

But Shu Hanqing couldn't even sit up straight. He reached out and shoved Yan Shenyun's hand away without a second thought, insisting he check on Rong Hua on the stretcher first.

He kept urging, begging Yan Shenyun to save him—what if he'd gotten infected?

Yan Shenyun looked at Shu Hanqing's injuries. "Let me check you first."

"Save him first!" Shu Hanqing shoved the man toward Rong Hua. "I'm fine! Go check him first!"

Yan Shenyun looked at Shu Hanqing. Deep in those always-calm, composed eyes, a complex, murky turmoil churned.

He didn't push it. Instead, he reached out and coldly told his assistant to bring a pair of medical scissors.

Rong Hua's tactical jacket was sliced open in one clean cut. Shu Hanqing stared hard.

The second Rong Hua's broad, blood-caked back was fully exposed under the harsh light, Shu Hanqing's breath hitched. The flesh around that vicious, gaping wound had already turned a deathly, sickening black. Virus-laced black blood was spreading aggressively through the veins, crawling across the skin around it.

Yan Shenyun looked at Shu Hanqing's guilt-ridden face. "...Don't worry. He's been vaccinated."

Lei Zheng tossed a remark at Yan Shenyun—"This kid's yours. I'm taking him to get patched up."—and without another word, swept Shu Hanqing's swaying body into his arm, half-dragging, half-carrying him toward the isolation room.

"...Relax. Rong Hua's not gonna die. He took out several people in one go! Get your own wounds treated first."

Medical alcohol splashed against his skin, sending a searing, stabbing pain through him.

The swollen lump on the back of Shu Hanqing's head was wrapped in layers of white bandages. He had plenty of minor wounds—bruises and scratches of all sizes stood out starkly against his pale skin.

Lei Zheng, face grim, dragged him all the way to the military rest quarters inside, then tossed a clean set of clothes at him. His tone wasn't exactly gentle: "Go take a shower. And don't get your head wet."

Shu Hanqing caught it a beat late.

Lei Zheng stared at his dazed, out-of-it look. "Want me to go in with you? In case you pass out in there."

Shu Hanqing muttered a low "no need" and latched the heavy iron bathroom door behind him.

Scalding hot water came crashing down from every direction, instantly filling the air with billowing steam.

Shu Hanqing let the scalding water scour his body, washing away the blood and grime. As if he couldn't take the sudden explosion of pain in his skull, he pressed his forehead hard against the cold, damp tile wall, pounding it in frustration, then closed his eyes, drained.

Through the rush of water, a cold, mechanical voice exploded in the depths of his mind.

"According to database verification, this world's host has no record of data deletion. I repeat: this world's host has no record of data deletion."

Shu Hanqing let that flat, emotionless male voice echo through his head over and over. After a moment, he wiped the hot water from his face, turned off the shower, and slowly opened his eyes, staring at the mirror half-fogged with steam in front of him.

The mirror was rough, dimly reflecting his face, flushed from the steam.

Shu Hanqing stared at his reflection. "...You lied to me."

The Plot System's electric static crackled, stiff and stubborn: "The underlying data is intact. This world's host has no record of data deletion."

"You know damn well I'm not talking about this world!"

Shu Hanqing suddenly snapped, his fingers digging desperately into the cold edge of the sink.

The second his words landed, the mirror in front of him twisted and warped grotesquely, as if across endless time and space, it had conjured up another face—identical to his own.

The person in the mirror had pupils trembling wildly in sheer terror and despair, his face pale as death. He opened his mouth desperately, trying with everything he had to shout out some buried truth to Shu Hanqing on the other side.

But before that version of him could make a sound, a pair of hands suddenly shot out from the shadows in the mirror—one covering the mirror-man's eyes, the other clamping over his mouth as he tried to scream, dragging him back into the deepest dark.

"BANG!"

A massive, glaring warning symbol slammed into the center of Shu Hanqing's mental sea.

—"Deviation from the plot is forbidden."

"Are you going to erase me?"

Shu Hanqing asked into the void.

Deep in his mind, the Plot System's electric static crackled again, like a cold steel machine running at overcapacity, calculating his words.

The enormous crimson symbol continued flashing frantically in his mental sea, and those pitch-black dead hands reaching out from the depths of the mirror were dragging the other him inch by inch into the abyss.

Shu Hanqing's eyes blazed with murderous intent—he'd finally had enough. Gritting his teeth, his five fingers suddenly clenched into a fist, crackling with his surging water ability, and he slammed his fist viciously into the mirror before him.

"Bang!"

A piercing crash rang out in the cramped space.

The mirror instantly fractured into pieces, countless sharp glass shards falling away with the last traces of the illusion, clattering into the sink.

Shu Hanqing's chest heaved violently. He jerked his head up, with a bone-deep ruthlessness and self-destructive arrogance, and roared: "You've been lying to me this whole time... I remember everything now! I remember so much!"

Since his rebirth, those memories that didn't belong to this world had turned into an endless string of dreams, filled with people like Mu Ye, Lei Zheng, and Rong Hua.

That was why he couldn't sleep well and had no energy during the day.

Those so-called dreams, he'd once brushed off as his own fantasies.

But what if they were scenes from one of countless fateful restarts?

The thought that he might be like a marionette, repeatedly wiped clean and erased along a plotline where life and death were already set in stone, made Shu Hanqing's blood run cold.

In the rest area, Lei Zheng hadn't left.

He sat outside, appearing nonchalant, but his ears were straining, alert to every sound from the bathroom.

The sudden, deafening crash of the mirror and the muffled roar from inside genuinely startled him.

Lei Zheng's expression shifted drastically. Moving like lightning, without a second thought, he raised his hand and slammed it against the door panel. It didn't open from inside, and the next second, he used sheer brute force to wrench the bathroom door open.

Amid the thick, billowing steam, Lei Zheng looked up and his breath caught sharply.

There stood Shu Hanqing, utterly alone amidst the wreckage, his bare feet treading on the broken glass. His right hand, the one that had just smashed the mirror, hung limp at his side, knuckles a bloody mess, thick crimson blood mixing with water and dripping steadily down his skin.

"Shu Hanqing, have you lost your mind?" Lei Zheng's temple veins bulged as he lunged forward, grabbing his wrist in a death grip and hauling him up.

But the moment Shu Hanqing saw Lei Zheng's face, he froze in place.

A scene that had never appeared in his memories, yet was clearer than anything else, exploded in his mind.

It was one of countless restart points—on the ruins, he had already become a gradually cooling corpse, and Lei Zheng, who had always looked down on everyone with such pride and refused to bow his head to anyone, was kneeling in utter despair amidst a sea of corpses and blood, clutching his lifeless body tightly in his arms.

His face was streaked with scalding tears.

In the dream, Lei Zheng, with blood-stained fingers, obsessively stroked Shu Hanqing's pale, unfeeling cheeks again and again, then pressed close to him, his voice hoarse and bleeding: "...Wait for me. I will trade my own death for your next rebirth."