CH 66

Translator: Abo Dammen

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Liang Ziang had rushed to the company early that morning, but it seemed he was already too late.

“Ziang-er, you’re here! Come help me! I’ve already mortgaged the company building.” Father Liang’s eyes were bloodshot, yet he looked at his son with manic glee.

The corporate accounts had been emptied. At that moment, Father Liang was in the process of liquidating the company’s remaining assets and shares.

“Go organize those share certificates. I’m going to offload them at a bargain price.”

“You’re being controlled by an anomaly,” Liang Ziang said, his voice thick with disbelief.

His father’s brow furrowed deeply. “What anomaly? Every decision I’ve made, I’ve made myself. No one is forcing me.”

“Get a hold of yourself! Do we really have the means to repay a debt this size?” Liang Ziang snatched the documents from his father’s hands. The secretary and the financial officer also hovered nearby, trying to reason with him.

“Dad, come home with me.” He reached for his father’s arm, only to receive a stinging slap across the face in return.

“How is this destruction? Haven’t I told you? Repaying debts is a matter of natural justice.” Father Liang spoke with a twitching, neurotic cadence. His bloodshot eyes held a terrifying, predatory gleam, as if he were about to choose someone to devour.

The financial officer and the secretary immediately scrambled backwards.

Liang Ziang clutched his face, his expression one of utter, uncomprehending shock.

By the time Ruan Zhou and President Lou, alerted by a frantic phone call, arrived at the company, a tremendous commotion could be heard from within the office.

Several employees tried to poke their heads in to look, but the secretary firmly blocked their way.

“You unfilial wretch! I raised you and provided for you, not so you could defy me!” Father Liang was brandishing a leather belt, lunging from a distance to strike at his son.

An angry red welt from the belt was already visible across Liang Ziang’s face.

President Lou and the butler were physically restraining the older man, but he had somehow acquired an uncanny agility. Despite being middle-aged, he was proving more nimble than a young man.

“What on earth is happening here?” Ruan Zhou knew better than to insert himself directly into a family brawl. He quietly questioned the secretary instead.

“Mr. Liang… he’s trying to sell the young master!”

“He’s what?!” Ruan Zhou and President Lou exclaimed in unified shock.

Liang Ziang was a grown man in his twenties. Who could his father even sell him to?

No, that wasn’t the central issue.

“Why would Mr. Liang do such a thing?” Ruan Zhou watched the absurd spectacle unfolding before him, finding it utterly incomprehensible.

The moment Liang Ziang spotted Ruan Zhou, he darted behind him, using him as a shield.

Father Liang bellowed, “Step aside! I’m going to beat this unfilial son to death today! I raised him, fed him, clothed him for all these years. Now, when the company faces a matter of life and death, he dares to shirk his duty. I raised him for nothing! And it’s not just you I’m selling. This old frame of mine is useless now too. Might as well sell myself off to repay the debt while I’m at it!”

Ruan Zhou stared, dumbfounded, and extended an arm to block him. “Mr. Liang, please, calm down first.”

The man had been perfectly fine that morning. Now, by evening, he was ready to sell his own flesh and blood to settle an imaginary debt. What could have possibly triggered this?

“Whatever the problem is, we can sit down and discuss it rationally. There’s no need to start selling off your children or yourself.”

Ruan Zhou caught hold of his wrist in a firm grip.

After arriving in this world and physically subduing a fair number of ill-intentioned individuals, Ruan Zhou’s practical combat skills had improved considerably.

With a swift, precise, and merciless motion, he clamped down and applied pressure. A sharp crack sounded from Father Liang’s wrist, and the leather belt clattered harmlessly to the floor.

The madness in Father Liang’s eyes instantly cleared.

When violence could solve a problem, it remained the most effective tool available.

“Now, can we have a proper discussion, Mr. Liang?”

Mr. Liang shuddered, glancing down at his wrist, which was already beginning to darken into a vivid bruise. “Whatever President Ruan says is correct.”

Even after being seated, Father Liang was as restless as if his chair were studded with needles. His veins stood out against his temples, his hair was a disheveled mess, and he stared at Liang Ziang as though his son were a solid gold ingot, something to be broken down, weighed on a scale, and sold off piece by piece.

Ruan Zhou’s frown deepened.

“It’s not that I want to sell him. It’s just, children grow up and can’t be held onto forever—”

Ruan Zhou cut him off. “Get to the point.”

Father Liang produced the letter he was clutching.

This time, however, the pink envelope had turned a deep, vivid red, so intensely crimson it looked as though it had been soaked in fresh blood.

In a corner where no one was looking, the potted plant by the window trembled slightly.

Xiao manipulated his transcendent ability, bending light around himself to remain perfectly invisible while listening intently to their conversation.

His eyes locked onto the red bill.

He recognized this anomaly from the organization’s central intelligence database. It was designated “The Debt Notice.”

The victim would begin by receiving an incessant stream of bills, each demanding a sum so astronomical it could never possibly be repaid.

Even if the recipient refused delivery, the letters would infiltrate the victim’s awareness through every conceivable channel. They would materialize on dining tables, inside food, within water glasses, even amidst human waste. They were utterly inescapable. The moment the victim’s psychological defenses cracked, the bill would begin its transformation.

It rapidly seized control of the victim’s mind, compelling them to liquidate every asset they owned. It then extended its control, forcing the victim to sell everything and everyone around them, ultimately including their own body, until every last possession was gone and the victim was left with absolutely nothing. The very second the final asset was sold, the victim would die.

This letter was capable of spreading to those nearby, and it exhibited a distinct preference for targeting corporate executives.

Ruan Zhou, while not wealthy, held an official position. He had almost certainly been marked by now. It wouldn’t be long before he too fell under its control and was reduced to a debt-repayment slave.

Served him right. Who told him to assign Xiao such a backbreaking workload? And to be forced to labor for his sworn enemies at the Anomaly Control Bureau, no less!

“I must settle this debt. In business, there can be no sloppiness. I refuse to owe anything to anyone,” Father Liang rambled, his leg jittering with nervous, erratic energy.

Ruan Zhou took the letter and read it.

[Mr. Liang:

As you have failed to settle the outstanding debt within the 30-day period, our company is issuing this final notification. You may offer the following items as collateral towards repayment:

Corporate shares, real estate holdings…

Bodily organs: Heart, liver, spleen, kidneys, blood, fecal matter…

Family members: Son, spouse… along with the aforementioned persons’ bodily organs, personal property, etc.

Social connections: …Lou Pangbing… Ruan Zhou…

Please package and sell all of the above assets, transferring the proceeds to our company to satisfy this debt. Failure to comply will leave us no choice but to collect in person.]

The document felt deeply wrong, triggering a sense of visceral recognition in Ruan Zhou. It reminded him forcibly of that vile cookbook from the Bode Time Restaurant.

“I would strongly advise you to report this to the Public Security Bureau,” Ruan Zhou said. This had escalated far beyond a mere harassment letter. Given that multiple notices had clearly been received, there was more than enough grounds to open an official investigation.

Liang Ziang, his expression hesitant, countered, “Perhaps we should report it to the Anomaly Control Bureau instead.”

The Anomaly Control Bureau?

“What kind of agency is that?” Ruan Zhou felt certain he had heard the name somewhere before, but he couldn’t quite place it at the moment.

President Lou cut in swiftly, “Just an ordinary administrative office.”

“Oh.” Ruan Zhou nodded. The bureaucratic terminology in this world differed from what he was used to. It would take time to adjust his thinking.

“If you decide to report it to the Public Security, I could certainly ask my friend about it. But if it’s this other investigation bureau you mentioned, I’m afraid I might not be of much help.” Ruan Zhou smiled apologetically.

Liang Ziang looked at his father, who was clearly no longer in his right mind, then grabbed President Lou’s arm. He lowered his voice, hissing through gritted teeth, “Uncle, what’s the number for the Anomaly Control Bureau?”

Linquan City Anomaly Control Bureau.

“Hello, you’ve reached the Anomaly Control Bureau. To report an anomalous incident? Please describe the situation in detail.” The operator listened and typed simultaneously, until her fingers abruptly froze over the keyboard.

“Please repeat that. Who exactly is with you right now?”

“Ruan Zhou. He’s currently the CEO of World Tech Company.”

“What?! How did he end up in Linquan?!”

A ripple of alarmed commotion swept through the Linquan City Anomaly Control Bureau.

Within a conference room, officers filled every seat, their expressions uniformly grim.

“Lou Pangbing came here soliciting investment. A relative of his happened to be interested. The two of them hit it off, and somehow, that monumental figure got dragged right into our jurisdiction.”

“This is the doing of those people over in Xinhai.”

“But their original intentions were genuinely good.”

“And now he’s here, in Linquan. Do you consider that a good thing?”

One officer shook his head, but then, after a pause, gave a slow nod. “It could also be a good thing. At the very least, we’ve just gained a powerfully strong ally.”

Cooperation made one an ally. Refusal to cooperate made one an obstacle.

“…His stature is simply too immense. Our small bureau isn’t equipped to accommodate someone of his caliber.”

“So we do nothing? An anomalous incident is already unfolding right now, and it’s the spreading type, notoriously difficult to handle. Our capabilities are indeed limited, but can he single-handedly manage this?”

“…I heard that Xinhai established a dedicated emergency response team specifically for him. Over twenty personnel on standby around the clock.”

“Where are we supposed to scrounge up that many people?”

Linquan was only half the size of Xinhai. The frequency of anomalous incidents was correspondingly far lower.

Xinhai, infamous nationwide as a relentless hotspot for anomaly activity, was in a league of its own.

It was precisely because incidents erupted there so frequently that the name “Ruan Zhou,” appearing again and again in conjunction with these events, had become legendary, thundering like a drumroll through every Anomaly Control Bureau across the country.

Even if no one could guess his true level of power, every officer had heard the stories of his deeds.

“Are we going to set up a dedicated team for him? I just called. He’s booked on a flight back to Xinhai in a few days. We could simply set up a direct video link with Xinhai when the time comes.”

The Linquan Bureau Chief wiped a hand down his face. “Get Xinhai on the line right now! Their own deity, they’re the experts at managing him.”

“But he’s currently assisting us in dealing with our anomaly. Wouldn’t that reflect rather poorly on us?”

“What alternative do you propose, then?”

“I’ve heard that Xinhai allocated several million in additional funding to President Ruan’s company…”

“Fifty thousand, at the absolute maximum,” the Chief stated flatly. “We don’t have Xinhai’s budget.”

Just as the room buzzed with debate, a call came through from the Xinhai Anomaly Control Bureau. “We are dispatching our city’s most formidable combat asset to assist you in suppressing the anomaly.”

The most formidable combat asset?

As the officers exchanged bewildered looks, a knock sounded at the door.

“My apologies. I overslept.” A white-haired man offered a casual smile. “Also, this location of yours is rather difficult to find.”

Back at the Liang residence, Father Liang was left under the butler’s strict supervision while Ruan Zhou’s group departed the city center.

The Liang family’s vehicles had already been mortgaged. The three of them were forced to squeeze into a single taxi heading for their destination.

“Why does this car feel so heavy to drive?” the driver muttered.

President Lou forced a laugh. “Master driver, you must be joking. It’s just the three of us. Surely there can’t be an extra person hidden on the roof?”

At that very moment, Xiao, who had stealthily positioned himself atop the taxi’s roof, instinctively held his breath.

Spreading-type anomalies could only be controlled and contained by locating their core. The bills they were dealing with fell precisely into this category. But finding the source of such an anomaly was generally considered a near impossibility.

A few months prior, Xinhai City had suffered an outbreak involving something termed the “Primal Code.” His organization estimated that Xinhai had been forced to expend nearly all its resources just to temporarily suppress it.

Once enough time passed for the anomaly to amass sufficient energy, and with Xinhai lacking a suitable anomalous artifact to permanently contain it, the Primal Code would inevitably spread again. When that happened, it would be another bloodbath.

This bill incident didn’t spread as rapidly as the code, but it was equally inescapable. Worse, it specifically targeted the upper-middle class and the wealthy. The resulting societal impact would be in no way inferior to the Primal Code.

Anomalies of this type concealed their core and their point of origin with extreme cunning. They were notoriously difficult to track down.

This was precisely why Linquan had failed to achieve successful containment up until now.

But how had Ruan Zhou managed to obtain an address?

Xiao pricked up his ears.

“The bank that issued the account is located around here, correct?” Ruan Zhou confirmed once more.

Liang Ziang’s smile was strained. “Yes.”

Heaven only knew how, but they had genuinely located an actual bank address.

This was an anomaly! Did anomalies now abide by laws and regulations too?

Liang Ziang felt his entire understanding of the world had been upended.

The driver spoke up. “The exact address you mentioned is long gone. Best I can do is drop you off in the vicinity.”

“That will be fine.” Liang Ziang glanced at Ruan Zhou.

Once they disembarked, Xiao followed, quietly slipping into the underbrush. The camera concealed on his person faithfully recorded everything that transpired.

After leaving the car, a faint, foul odor lingered in the air.

“This area was an industrial zone decades ago,” Liang Ziang explained. “Back then, no one paid much attention to environmental protection. Wastewater was discharged everywhere, some of it straight into the ocean. But such things have become far less common in recent years. This whole district was slated to be redeveloped into an amusement park. However, due to the severity of the pollution, local residents protested fiercely. The old structures still haven’t been demolished.”

“No way to know which building the scam company is operating from…” Ruan Zhou and the others moved purposefully in one direction, with Xiao trailing behind.

“They actually seem confident,” his earpiece crackled.

Xiao replied in a low voice, “The ignorant are always full of unwarranted self-assurance. Do they even know where they’re headed?”

Linquan’s operatives had searched for ages without finding the source. There was no way Ruan Zhou would stumble upon it so effortlessly.

In the camera feed, Ruan Zhou’s footsteps came to a halt.

“What’s happening?” the voice on the other end asked, watching as the group abruptly changed direction, heading towards an abandoned factory.

“Have they actually found something?”

“They’re going inside! Stay on them!”

Ruan Zhou had heard something, a sound like machinery operating ceaselessly.

“What sound? I don’t hear anything,” President Lou said.

Ruan Zhou pointed. “From that direction.”

“Perhaps that’s the company’s location,” Ruan Zhou suggested. He turned to President Lou. “President Lou, would you like to accompany us inside?”

President Lou shook his head with the frantic vigor of a rattle drum.

His comprehension had evolved. Ruan Zhou’s question was not an invitation; it was a warning. The subtext was clear: It’s better for you to stay outside and wait quietly.

“Fair enough. You’re getting on in years, and you’ve just been discharged. Stay out here and keep watch. If anything unusual happens, just call,” Ruan Zhou instructed.

President Lou nodded vigorously. The moment the two men disappeared inside, he immediately pulled out his phone and dialed Lin Lin.

“Hello, Captain Lin. Our President Ruan has just entered the factory. I’m sending you the real-time location now. You need to get here immediately.”

If an anomaly proved unsolvable, the rule was to summon Ruan Zhou. If one wanted the anomaly to be left with its body intact, the rule was to summon Lin Lin.

When Ruan Zhou had mentioned Lin Lin’s arrival, President Lou had been genuinely surprised. The man had quietly, without any fanfare, followed them here. He’d heard Lin Lin had gone straight to find Ruan Zhou at the beach and was staying at a hotel not far from the Liang residence.

President Lou shook his head with a wry smile and ended the call.

A sudden gust of wind swept past him.

Strange. The sun was bright and warm, and they were nowhere near the sea. Why would a wind spring up so suddenly?

President Lou rubbed his arms. It was a good thing Ruan Zhou hadn’t insisted he go inside. The entire situation was too uncanny.

The factory had been abandoned for decades. The plaster walls were peeling, the ground was strewn with construction debris. Broken bricks and chunks of cement were everywhere. Wooden planks that may have once been window frames or door frames lay scattered in chaotic piles. Moss had crept into the gaps between the weathered red bricks of the floor.

Just past the main entrance, two large buildings flanked them on the left and right.

“President Ruan, which direction should we take?” Liang Ziang was terrified, but also felt a thrill of nervous excitement.

Ruan Zhou gestured towards the right-hand building. “That one.”

As they entered, Xiao crept in after them.

He still refused to believe Ruan Zhou could simply walk in and locate the anomaly’s source. This was, after all, a high-level anomaly, one that had evolved into a festering, incurable blight upon Linquan City.

He followed them as they passed through one derelict workshop after another.

The ceiling panels above were shattered and hanging in jagged shards, crisscrossed by countless broken planks and plastic sheets. Dark, ominous stains spread across every surface, radiating a palpable sense of oppression.

What kind of legitimate company would operate out of a place like this?

“We should have brought Mr. Liang here to see this,” Ruan Zhou remarked to Liang Ziang. “Let him see exactly what kind of establishment he’s been scammed by. A company operating in a place like this, no amount of money paid to them would make a difference. Their minds are clearly defective. There’s no saving them.”

Liang Ziang could only manage a strained, mirthless laugh. His adrenaline levels were spiking dangerously. He was terrified that if he opened his mouth to speak, his voice would emerge as a trembling, pathetic tremor, and he would utterly lose face in front of Ruan Zhou.

Reading his expression, Ruan Zhou bent down and picked up a length of wooden rod from the debris. He handed it to Liang Ziang. “Take this. For self-defense.”

Liang Ziang asked, “Why aren’t you taking one?”

Ruan Zhou considered this for a single second. “It would hamper my performance.”

Liang Ziang could only stare in baffled confusion.

Xiao continued his stealthy pursuit, hanging at the very rear of their small party. Unbeknownst to him, the feed from his camera was being streamed directly to the organization’s headquarters.

In a silent, secluded chamber, the Bishop occupied the central seat, flanked by the dark-haired Holy Son and his most trusted subordinate.

“Bishop, is this Ruan Zhou?” the subordinate asked, studying the young man displayed on the screen.

“Mm.”

Beside them, the long-haired young man in black lounged with his legs crossed. Watching Ruan Zhou’s movements, he let out a derisive snort. “He looks like a fool. I can’t fathom how the Mingyu Group operatives managed to fail against him.”

To walk straight in without any protective measures whatsoever, this was either the height of reckless arrogance or the blundering of a complete, clueless amateur.

“If he weren’t using transcendent abilities to suppress the anomaly, who would even guess he was a power user? The source of an anomaly like this is fundamentally impossible to locate. Does he truly believe he can just stroll in and neutralize it? It’s enough to make one laugh their teeth out,” the long-haired man continued.

A flicker of irritation passed through the Bishop’s eyes, but his tone remained measured and courteous. “Tang Jun, do not be so hasty in your judgments.”

Tang Jun rose to his feet. “Bishop, he is but a trivial, insignificant man. There’s no need to expend such significant energy on him. Our finite time should be wholly devoted to preparing the sacrificial offerings. Once the offerings satisfy the Lord, He will descend ahead of schedule and lead us to welcome the new world!”

“Mm, mm,” the Bishop responded with two noncommittal murmurs.

“This man will play no significant role in the grand confluence of events,” Tang Jun pressed on. “Our efforts would be far better spent studying Lin Lin. The threat he poses is exponentially greater than we previously imagined. He could inflict devastating damage on us during the crucial battles to come!”

The Bishop finally allowed his patience to visibly fray. “And yet Ruan Zhou has not only repeatedly thwarted our plans, but has also drawn this ‘crucial’ Lin Lin into close association with him. Why do you deliberately choose to ignore this? Tang, your recent conduct has been far from that expected of a rational Holy Son.”

Tang Jun’s brow furrowed. “Are you questioning my ability? Countless prophecies I have made in the past have all proven accurate! The organization owes its current scale entirely to me!”

“You have mentioned this many times before,” the Bishop said, deliberately softening his voice. “I am not questioning your capability. I merely suggest that you may have been overextending yourself lately.”

“This trifling hardship is nothing. This world will sooner or later fall entirely under the Lord’s dominion. My service is merely my duty,” Tang Jun replied, utterly failing to catch the Bishop’s veiled meaning.

The Bishop did not respond. He simply watched the figure on the screen, his thumb and index finger ceaselessly rotating a cyan-green ring worn on his middle finger.

Having vented his frustration, Tang Jun recognized his tone had been inappropriate. He sat back down quietly, though his gaze mostly avoided the screen.

The Bishop glanced at him. “Your country has a saying: ‘Know the enemy and know yourself, and you will never be defeated in a hundred battles.’ You would do well to watch.”

Tang Jun took a deep breath, then turned his head towards the monitor.

One minute later, the expression on his face froze into a rigid mask.

The camera feed displayed a vast space, hundreds of square meters, filled to bursting with an unthinkable mass of flesh and gore. At the very center, rising from a mountain of corpses and a sea of blood, a colossal printer churned through sheets of paper with insane, relentless speed.

The printer was entwined with the limbs of unidentifiable creatures, a grotesque tapestry of red and white. Fingers pressed against the tips of toes. Joints were fused with sinew and fascia. Brains and internal organs were twisted together at angles that defied comprehension, that mocked the very laws of physics. A tidal wave of chaotic, disordered madness assaulted the senses, potent enough to shatter any onlooker’s sanity.

At the machine’s output tray, rows upon rows of human and animal upper jaws had been grafted into its structure. Blood dripped steadily onto the thin sheets of paper, as if the fused, monstrous mouths were masticating and regurgitating the pages.

Xiao crept closer, allowing the camera to capture the horrific truth. The sheets emerging from the printer were not paper. They were sheets of skin of unknown origin, shaved impossibly thin until they resembled parchment. Upon their surface, pores could be seen, still rhythmically opening and closing as if breathing.

A dark red ichor coated the entire room. The stench of blood was so thick it felt as though it could be smelled even through the video feed, a gut-wrenching, nauseating foulness.

Confronted with such a scene of absolute, visceral horror, Tang Jun’s face went ashen white.

Though he held the title of Holy Son, witnessing this mountain of flesh and sea of blood at such proximity made his stomach heave uncontrollably. His body began to tremble beyond his control.

This was the true face of an anomaly. Most people never lived to witness it. They would be killed merely by glimpsing the anomaly’s facade, long before they could ever begin to fathom its underlying rules.

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” the Bishop smiled.

Tang Jun’s face remained a bloodless white.

How could this thing possibly be described with the word “beautiful”?

Hideous. Evil. Filthy. Chaotic. Every conceivable pejorative applied to the entity before him, but “beautiful” was not and could never be one of them.

The subordinate beside him spoke in a tone of rapturous infatuation. “Yes. It is so truly beautiful. I feel as though I am gazing upon the Lord Himself.”

Tang Jun could only forcibly suppress the revulsion roiling within him and echo the sentiment. “Indeed… very beautiful.”

“If one were consumed by such a being, would one’s essence merge directly with the Lord’s physical form?” the subordinate murmured, almost to himself.

Tang Jun found the man’s train of thought utterly incomprehensible. He steadied his voice with effort. “This anomaly… this sacred artifact… what exactly is it?”

The Bishop propped his chin on his hand. “As you see. A flesh-and-blood printer. Those bills are all produced from within this machine.”

Tang Jun swallowed hard. “It must be at least Class A.”

All spreading-type anomalies started at a minimum of Class B. The sheer energy radiating from this flesh-machine was palpable, even through a screen.

In the camera feed, only Ruan Zhou’s back was visible, but Liang Ziang could be seen clearly behind him.

The young man’s pace was slowing, growing more labored. His face was contorting, his eyes becoming shot through with crimson.

Simply being in proximity to the active printer was enough to cause contamination. What kind of unimaginable psychic pressure must Ruan Zhou, facing the anomaly’s very source head-on, be enduring?

To Tang Jun’s knowledge, with the sole monstrous exception of Lin Lin, virtually no one in the Anomaly Control Bureau could withstand this level of spiritual pollution.

Tang Jun’s lips trembled. “He’s courting death.”

This entity could not simply be torn apart by physical weaponry. To silence it permanently, one had to attack it at its very root.

That conglomeration of flesh was a massive contamination source. The entities fused into the walls were ceaselessly exerting their influence over the entire factory. Once complete assimilation was achieved, the factory itself would transform into an anomalous printing press. After that, the entity would no longer need to hide and scurry.

Tang Jun had witnessed countless Anomaly Control officers sacrifice their own bodies as living containment vessels just to subdue a single spreading-type anomaly. In the past, he had merely considered them fools.

Now, he thought them even greater fools.

A monster like this clearly could not be contained! Why throw away one’s life for strangers?

Even if Ruan Zhou was a rule-type transcendent ability user, so what? He was still just a human. How could any human stand before an existence of this magnitude?

The pallor on Tang Jun’s face slowly receded, replaced by the gradual dawning of a smile.

He had not foreseen Ruan Zhou in any of his future timelines. Perhaps the man was fated to die in this very incident. Such a fool, and one who had grown so close to Lin Lin… his death would be a welcome thing. Wouldn’t his demise deal a devastating blow to Lin Lin?

With Ruan Zhou dead, the world’s descent would draw one step closer.

“Where’s the power cord for this thing?” Ruan Zhou asked Liang Ziang, who was beside him.

By now, Liang Ziang was no longer lucid. If Ruan Zhou had been observing him closely, he would have noticed something writhing just beneath the young man’s scalp, as if preparing to burst through.

Liang Ziang’s feet had already been dissolved by the crimson fluid pooling on the floor, rooting him in place. His breathing pattern was synchronizing, moment by moment, with the printer’s rhythm. The two seemed to be entering a state of dimensional resonance.

“No one’s even in this factory. Where could all the staff have gone?” Ruan Zhou mused to himself, since Liang Ziang wasn’t answering. “The interior decoration here is certainly… unique.”

He was moving even closer to the machine! Tang Jun found himself holding his breath.

He couldn’t fathom why Ruan Zhou remained unaffected, but the man was now practically pressed against the printer’s bulk.

No one could maintain their sanity at such proximity. No one!

Tang Jun was utterly incapable of breathing now. He stared at Ruan Zhou without blinking.

A person who had never appeared in any future timeline. An existence that disrupted the flow of time itself. If he died here, all of Tang Jun’s prophecies would once again be perfectly, flawlessly accurate.

Ruan Zhou reached out and laid his hand upon the printer. Flesh and sinew coiled around his fingers!

Then—

Everyone watching through the camera feed saw the breathing of the flesh-covered walls cease. In the next instant, geysers of crimson mist exploded outward!

A red fog permeated the air. A fine, shallow layer of scarlet settled onto Liang Ziang’s shoulders. Blisters, yellow and red, began to bubble up across his skin.

With a soft, obscene popping sound, black, razor-sharp tendrils erupted from each pustule, gleaming with a dark, malevolent light.

The rows of teeth lining the printer’s output tray began to chatter and clatter in rapid, undulating waves, like the teeth of a person shivering in mortal terror. They hammered line after frantic line of text onto the sheets passing through them.

The machine roared to life, its mechanisms spinning into a desperate, full-power frenzy.

Sheet after sheet, pristine white, was baptized in a torrent of gore, emerging a deep, arterial red. They fluttered down like a blizzard of snow, filling the air in a mad, swirling dance.

Xiao snatched one of the crimson letters from the floor and angled his camera, ensuring everyone watching could read its contents clearly.

[I’m sorry!]

[I’m sorry I’m sorry!]

[I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry]

[I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry…]

The densely packed words covered the entire page, leaving not a sliver of blank space. Characters were superimposed over other characters. The red paper gave off a faint black luminescence.

The teeth had bitten down with such frantic force that holes had been torn straight through the sheet, a testament to the sheer, overwhelming terror of the one doing the printing.

The camera feed went completely still. Everyone watching from the other side was stunned into absolute silence.