ATIGIBTC Chapter 119.2

Even Shi Canghai couldn’t help but suspect: could it be that the so-called Nightmare Beast seed wasn’t actually trying to destroy the world? Perhaps, it was merely destroying and filtering out humanity? After transforming into Nightmare Beasts, humans would erupt with unprecedented power, but eventually, their bodies would all die as they continually pushed past their limits. Yet, the people of Mirage didn’t.

Was it possible that the people of Mirage were, in fact, the new breed of humans that had been successfully selected after being parasitized by the Nightmare Beast seed?

Shi Canghai rubbed the space between his brows in slight resignation. Maybe he was just overthinking things.

Right now, more than worrying about whether he himself would be eliminated by this world, he probably needed to consider whether he’d be eliminated by his own “compatriots” first.

Chances were, another meeting in the library would happen soon. And every time they had a meeting, the library remained a dangerous place.

No one knew whether these madmen in power might, to monopolize knowledge, decide to exterminate the library before it even had the chance to surrender.

“City Lord.” Suddenly, their vehicle came to a stop. The guard beside him leaned in and said in his ear, “There’s a person up ahead. We’re not sure if it’s a Nightmare Beast or a human. Looks like a mercenary.”

Shi Canghai looked ahead. Sure enough, he saw someone standing in the middle of the road, alongside a car.

Shi Canghai narrowed his eyes slightly. The person was waving at them repeatedly, seemingly asking for help. He wasn’t a cold-blooded or heartless man. If he could help someone, he was never stingy about it.

“Can we confirm he’s not a Nightmare Beast?” He was willing to help, but Shi Canghai was still wary.

“There’s no black coloration on his vehicle.” Modern mercenary vehicles were typically painted in bright colors, so it would be easier to tell if someone had been parasitized by a Nightmare Beast seed. That vehicle was pure white, and from a distance, one could vaguely see a faint, cold gleam covering its surface. White tinged with a bluish hue.

They circled around once and eventually stopped a short distance away. There, they saw a… very handsome middle-aged man.

This man’s appearance was extraordinarily striking. His figure was also exceptional. His silver hair fell loosely, giving off a sense of cool indifference, yet he possessed a pair of deeply affectionate eyes that could captivate anyone who looked into them.

Shi Canghai stepped out of the car and moved a step closer to him. The people at his side wanted to stop him, but for some reason, none of them acted.

But Shi Canghai knew why. It was because as he approached that man, his body instinctively felt fear. It was a kind of primal intuition. The kind that arises when one truly sees a powerful human and realizes, with bone-deep certainty, that humanoid monsters do exist in this world.

Within Angel City, it was always easy to tell who belonged to Mirage and who didn’t. And right now, every fiber of his being screamed at him: this man was from Mirage.

“Does my face look scary to you?” At that moment, the man spoke. His voice was husky and low, extremely pleasant to the ear, like a glass of full-bodied red wine, leaving one with a refined impression.

“Are you… from Mirage?” Shi Canghai asked bluntly.

The man seemed a bit caught off guard by the sudden question. He tilted his head slightly, which, oddly enough, gave off a surprisingly cute contrast to his overall demeanor.

Yet the man merely offered a faint smile. The sound of his voice came from deep in his throat, carrying a mesmerizing, almost bewitching tone that subtly guided others to tell the truth: “Why would you think that?”

And Shi Canghai was indeed bewitched. He opened his mouth and answered, “Intuition.”

It was intuition. The kind that arose instinctively in ordinary humans when confronted with overwhelming power and the unknown.

But the man simply raised an eyebrow. He didn’t confirm it, nor did he deny it. He only continued to stare directly into Shi Canghai’s eyes.

Unlike that terrifying Zhu Yan, whose gaze seemed to control everything, this man’s eyes felt as though they were trying to control his heart, his thoughts, his soul. When those eyes were fixed on him, his body couldn’t move at all. He could only stand there, waiting to be observed and appraised. It was as if he were a porcelain figure molded into human shape, born to display his truest, rawest self before this man.

The man walked up to him. His steps were light, almost like a casual stroll. But everyone before him dared not make a single reckless move.

“Hello, my name is Sai Gu.” Yet just moments later, the man suddenly smiled. He shrugged, looking a bit innocent and gently helpless. “I’m a mercenary. I was on my way to another mobile city to exchange for supplies. Unfortunately, my car broke down. I need a few materials, so I wanted to ask if any of you might have them? I’m willing to pay a high price.”

As Sai Gu’s deep, cello-like voice unfolded his words one by one, it made people want to lower all their defenses and believe everything he said. To Shi Canghai, this was terrifying.

He knew clearly that his current state wasn’t normal.

He possessed extensive knowledge, and precisely because of that, his rational mind could identify that the man in front of him—every word he spoke, every movement he made, even every small, seemingly habitual gesture—was filled with powerful suggestion.

A suggestion to trust him. A suggestion to like him. A suggestion that he liked you back.

He was like a walking potion of seduction—every single action crafted, all within the boundaries of the man’s design.

It was all technique, interwoven with emotions so indistinguishable from real or fake that it lured in everyone around him.

If this man wasn’t from Mirage, then Shi Canghai might as well not have a brain!

“You’ve been spacing out for quite a while now.” That deep, nearly mind-controlling voice sounded from not far away. Though the man’s tone seemed casual, his gaze felt deliberately seductive, as if hooking someone in. “Or could it be… compared to me helping you, what you really need is me?”

Shi Canghai jolted awake, suddenly snapping back to clarity.

Wait a minute…

If he really was someone from Mirage…

A thought flashed through Shi Canghai’s mind. He stepped forward and said, “Apologies, I was just lost in thought for a moment. May I ask what materials you need? I think I might be able to help…”

If he truly was from Mirage, then making contact with him would definitely be meaningful.

Since the man didn’t intend to openly reveal his identity, then maybe… Shi Canghai should approach him as just an ordinary mercenary!

Just the thought of having a new-generation human from Mirage, someone strong enough to destroy heaven and earth, standing beside him, made all his previous worries about the library plummet instantly. Even Shi Canghai himself hadn’t expected that he would come to trust Mirage so much.

—

Meanwhile, He Fang sat cross-legged in a gaming chair inside his room. He opened the system panel on his computer, then turned his gaze to the section of land on the map that had been completely overturned, thanks to the fight between the Chong brothers and the Rainbow Squad’s Xiao Huang. He planned to transform all of it into space for the future library.

This piece of land was directly north of the main city. A huge area, larger even than the total size of the library’s own mobile city.

After returning to the library, Shi Canghai had sent over the library’s map to show his loyalty.

This was a very risky move, but it also proved that Shi Canghai had already placed all his bets and fully committed himself to Hope City.

He Fang, on the other hand, wasn’t worried in the slightest that anything might go wrong. After witnessing the brilliant battle between the Chong brothers, it was the first time he truly realized he had underestimated the game.

He planned to edit the footage of this “military parade” and upload it online to see if he could attract some wealthy players to buy sensory simulation pods and boost the player count.

After all, “Ruins Without Restart” as a networked online game was just way too interesting. But playing it was also undeniably difficult. He needed more people to create guides and walkthroughs. He constantly felt like he was a lone pioneer exploring the game, having to figure everything out on his own. Though the NPCs gave suggestions, He Fang suspected that due to algorithmic limitations, they could fall into the same kind of “can’t see the forest for the trees” trap as real people. So he had to stay vigilant at all times.

He Fang noticed that Sai Gu had gone to the Library. According to Shi Canghai, those mobile cities would definitely gather at the Library for a meeting. So, Sai Gu going there now clearly meant he was planning to fan the flames and stir up division, adding fuel to the fire in the hearts of those already unsettled after witnessing Hope City’s power.

He Fang always felt that, as an elder, Sai Gu had surely experienced and understood far more than others. But truthfully, his way of doing things still carried a hint of recklessness.

That said, with Sai Gu present, He Fang wasn’t afraid of any kind of scheming or intrigue. Under Sai Gu’s control, any so-called “plot” would be no more than children playing house. Sai Gu’s ability to see through the human heart was on a truly master-level tier.

So now, what He Fang wanted to do was design the city layout for the future Library. Because of the vast amount of stored knowledge and resources within the Library, he planned to turn it into a massive cultural city. Since he intended to share all knowledge, naturally, there had to be enough space for people to explore and experience it.

Everyone is thirsty for knowledge. If peace could be achieved in the future, then every person who wished to learn would be allowed to study, to communicate, and to create.

He Fang wasn’t sure how to classify everything. Looking at the Library map, there was an overwhelming amount of stored material. Some of it was suitable for opening libraries, museums, art galleries… and many things weren’t even physically stored at all. A massive amount of information was all piled together. It would be extremely difficult to make sense of it all at a glance.

So, the central area would be designated for the mobile cities to arrive, but how could he expand that into an entire large-scale cultural city?

He Fang felt completely at a loss. He decided to go online and look up information related to “cultural cities”.

Clang—!

He Fang suddenly snapped out of the game and quickly turned around, blinking, sticking his head out of the bedroom just slightly to peek at the kitchen, which was still brightly lit.

The deliveryman was in there now.

He had said that this time, he wanted to cook himself. Because last time, after tasting the food He Fang made with his own hands, the deliveryman was so happy that he decided to show off his skills this time too.

But He Fang wasn’t sure if the deliveryman could cook.

With anxiety written all over his face, he watched the scene in his kitchen. Behind the transparent door, flickering bursts of firelight could be seen. It honestly looked like some kind of magical potion-making lab.

And just now… that sound… it did sound like a pot had fallen…

He Fang listened to the constant clanging and banging from the kitchen, feeling like his heart had leapt into his throat.

He remembered that the deliveryman had promised with full confidence that he could cook. He’d even said that while delivering food, some restaurants that were short-staffed would let him jump in and help prepare dishes.

But now, looking at that tiny kitchen, paired with the deliveryman’s towering build, it just felt so out of place, so… mismatched.

He Fang was full of worry.

It felt like the deliveryman could blow up the whole kitchen just by sheer size alone.

Although He Fang didn’t want to crush the man’s confidence, the noises coming from the kitchen didn’t sound like cooking at all. It sounded more like he was tearing the kitchen apart. In the end, He Fang couldn’t hold back his growing anxiety and quietly opened the kitchen door just a crack.

But the moment he did, thick black smoke came billowing out through the gap. The smoke immediately triggered the fire alarm. He Fang frantically rushed to shut it off. When he turned around, he saw the deliveryman standing there with a wronged expression on his face, just like a child who’d been caught doing something bad.

He Fang snuck a glance at the pile of ingredients behind the deliveryman. Almost everything had been completely ruined. There was practically nothing left that could be eaten.

He hadn’t ordered any vegetables online the past few days, so the fridge had been fairly empty. The deliveryman had brought over a whole bunch of ingredients himself. But… but…

Total annihilation.

He Fang thought to himself—being able to wipe out every single dish… maybe that was a kind of culinary talent, too.

He looked pitifully at the towering deliveryman. The man hung his head low, his long golden hair dulled and misted with grease and smoke. He knew he’d messed up and wasted food. Right now he looked especially embarrassed, like he wished he could bury his head all the way into the floor.

Although He Fang was socially anxious, when faced with unexpected situations like this, he couldn’t help but let his expression shift a little. But he was never good at talking, and now more than ever, he had no idea what to say. Should he comfort this “kitchen assassin”? Or should he scold him for wasting food, knowing full well he couldn’t cook?

In the end, He Fang chose neither. He just stared blankly at the deliveryman.

“…I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have bragged like that,” the deliveryman said, voice full of guilt.

“It’s okay.” He Fang felt that if this went on any longer, his social anxiety might evolve into social speechlessness thanks to this man’s peculiar antics.

“Um, next time I’ll practice properly before trying to cook again.” The deliveryman was so ashamed that he didn’t even dare to look at He Fang. But strangely enough, it was now He Fang who could look at him just fine.

“Actually…” He Fang looked at the disaster zone that was his kitchen, and tried to put it as tactfully as possible: “You don’t have to go out of your way to practice… It’s fine. If you don’t cook… just buying food is… okay too…”

If it had gotten this bad, then there really wasn’t much hope, was there? He was honestly terrified the deliveryman might keep “practicing” and end up blowing up the kitchen, or worse, getting hurt.

Given the situation, ordering takeout again was definitely the safest bet.

He still had plenty of instant food at home, but since his friend was here, it didn’t feel right to just serve him that.

He Fang picked up his phone, opened the delivery app with practiced ease, and instinctively glanced at the deliveryman, only to notice that the man’s expression looked somewhat… unhappy.

After thinking about it for a moment, He Fang tried to comfort him: “Everyone has stuff they’re not good at. Um… It’s okay. You won’t die just because of that. But forcing yourself to do something you’re not good at is… um… basically… asking to die…”

The moment he finished saying that, He Fang regretted it. He thought maybe it would’ve been better if he hadn’t said anything at all.

The deliveryman’s expression grew even more bitter. He said slowly, “These past few days… you haven’t cooked a single meal for yourself, have you?”

He Fang froze.

Lately, because of the game, he’d been ordering takeout all the time—and the deliveryman had been showing up in his world more and more often. Every time he opened the door, he’d be greeted by that bright, cheerful smile.

“Your food has arrived, happy and on time! Don’t forget to give me a five-star review, okay? The kind with the little heart emojis!”

“Today’s cheerful little deliveryman has rushed here once again—complete with the world’s most handsome smile! Is my dear customer happy or what?”

Even though this deliveryman was utterly nonsensical at times, He Fang always felt a little happy whenever he received his order and saw that face. So perfectly handsome yet so goofy.

After all, he was the first real friend He Fang had ever had. And He Fang genuinely cared—100%—about him.

The deliveryman spoke, dejected, “Every time I deliver food, yeah, it’s tasty, but it’s never as good as when it’s just come out of the wok. It’s been a long time since you had a proper, freshly cooked meal, hasn’t it? Lately, I found this place nearby. Their food’s amazing. And it tastes best right after it’s cooked. So every time I picked up orders from them, I’d secretly watch how they did things. I thought I’d mastered it by watching. But… but…”

But the disaster of a kitchen behind him had completely shattered all his enthusiasm.

He Fang looked at the deliveryman, at his hair dulled and greasy from the smoke, at the kindness behind everything he’d tried to do. He received it all. He felt it.

Unconsciously, He Fang clenched his fingers.

He glanced once at the deliveryman, then quickly lowered his head again.

It had been a very, very long time since He Fang had felt this kind of internal struggle over anything.

But in the end, he looked once more at the disheveled and downcast figure before him—and gathered up his courage.

“…Go take a shower,” He Fang said. “Wash off all that smoke and grease first…”

“Okay!” The deliveryman obediently turned to head to the bathroom, and right there in front of He Fang, began to undress.

But this time, unlike before, when he might’ve sneaked a few glances, He Fang didn’t even lift his head.

Instead, he finally said the words he hadn’t yet been able to finish: “And then… We’ll go out. To that place you mentioned… Let’s eat together… The one you recommended…”

The deliveryman suddenly turned back to look at him, eyes slowly widening.

---