Chapter 26: High-Risk Experimental Subject  

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

Jing Rong asked, “Chief, what did you do inside my mind?”  

This time, Jing Rong didn’t feel any deeper pain—he simply knew by instinct that Jue had secretly placed something in his consciousness.  

626 said, “He stole the Spirit Shard that had just regenerated in you. He’s got some nerve.”  

In the entire universe, there was only one person who dared to steal a freshly restored Spirit Shard from an Executor—no one else would even attempt it.  

Jing Rong chuckled. “Really? What was it like?”  

626 replied, “I didn’t look, but he replaced it with one of his own Spirit Shards. Let me see… Ah, he gave you one of his happiest and most joyful moments. 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, dressed in the prison uniform of the laboratory.  

In the lab, four days a week were dedicated to testing mental torment reagents, determining which substances could destroy high-level Mental Power. One day was reserved for weapon testing, also designed to target Mental Power.  

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

But they wouldn’t let him go, either. Shackled and sealed inside an indestructible transparent chamber, they constantly warned him that if he dared act out, they would execute his kin right before his eyes.  

Only on the last half-day of the week was Jue allowed outside for a brief walk.  

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

The world he could see was limited to the concrete prison grounds, artificial grass, and the gray, smog-filled sky overhead.  

In this life, he had a younger brother.  

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

No blood relation, but that didn’t matter. He didn’t care about such things. The boy was younger than him, the smallest child in the entire facility.  

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

During their brief outings, he would play games with the boy.  

He collected used injection execution receipts and slowly folded them into a paper sword.  

Jue’s thin hands were covered in bruises and needle marks, but his fingers were steady—the sword he crafted had not a single crease.  

John adored the paper sword. He told Jue a story he’d heard from his parents—about a legendary sword king.  

John said, “Brother, a long, long time ago, in a faraway land, there was an incredibly powerful sword. Whoever wielded it would become the ruler of the land. All the villains would vanish, all the demons would flee in fear. The one who held that sword could bring peace and happiness.”  

Jue listened intently.  

“The sword was inlaid with the most beautiful gemstones in the world—even a tiny fragment would be priceless… The hero of the story was a wanderer, still very young, but he decided to seek out that sword…”

In their teens, Jue and his eight-year-old brother discussed the story, both deeply enamored with it. They grew excited and full of longing, constantly adding more details to the tale.

Jue said, “I think this sword should be golden.” So they stole brass powder and glued it onto a paper sword.

The younger brother said, “It needs lots of gems.”  

Jue excelled at this task. He melted discarded needles, shaped them into diamonds, and stuck them onto the sword as well.  

Countless afternoons were spent enriching the sword’s design. With scarred hands, he attached the hilt, embedded the gems, and polished a unique blade, delighting his brother, whose eyes sparkled with joy.  

That was Jue’s happiest memory.  

Jing Rong finished reading this fragment.  

He asked, “His brother… what happened to him later?”  

626 was silent for a moment. “His brother’s level wasn’t high. There weren’t many experiments he could endure.”  

626’s words were already very tactful.  

Jing Rong said, “There’s no need for him to know what happened after.”  

626 replied, “I agree.”  

Jing Rong opened his eyes.  

Jue was tying a small bottle with a piece of leather cord. He had placed both Spirit Shards inside.  

The two Spirit Shards were so small that they soon melted away, leaving only faint glimmers of light.  

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

Jue didn’t know yet that Jing Rong was aware he had secretly swapped the Spirit Shards.  

Pretending nothing was amiss, Jue said, “You passed out for a while just now. Or maybe you just fell asleep.”  

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

Jue handed him a warmed cup of coffee. “Drink this. It’ll help clear your mind.”  

Jing Rong took the coffee and drank quietly, saying nothing more.  

Jue watched him covertly for a long time, only relaxing once he confirmed Jing Rong hadn’t noticed.  

Jing Rong saw that even as Jue slept in the tent that night, his fingers remained tightly clenched around the bottle on his chest.  

*  

Venturing into the mountains during a blizzard carried countless risks.  

Beyond the extreme cold and high altitude, the greatest challenge was navigation.  

Visibility dropped to less than half a meter. Even face-to-face, it was hard to see each other’s expressions or hear what was being said.  

Faced with such harsh conditions, Jing Rong tethered Jue with a hundred-meter-long rope, just as he did when leading children on hikes. He would scout ahead, packing down the snow before returning to guide Jue forward.  

Jue followed closely.  

The explorers weren’t wrong—this was no longer a place humans could reach.  

With visibility so poor, even holding hands, they couldn’t make out each other’s faces. Their progress could only be measured in meters per minute.  

626 reported, “Temperature has dropped to minus thirty-three degrees Celsius. As we ascend, oxygen levels will plummet, and temperatures will fall further to minus one hundred twenty degrees.”  

Jing Rong gripped the safety rope tightly. Unable to see Jue’s condition, he could only gauge it through the vibrations transmitted along the rope.  

The tremors grew increasingly erratic, but their pace didn’t slow. Amid the howling wind, he could hear Jue’s labored breathing nearby, deliberately suppressed.  

Jing Rong tugged the rope and stopped. When Jue bumped into him, he reached out to brush the ice and snow from Jue’s face.  

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

Jing Rong reached out to check his pulse, which remained steady despite the heavy snow. Jue’s pulse, however, was erratic, indicating he was suffering from extreme oxygen deprivation and the torment of severe cold.  

In such extreme conditions, both physical ailments and scars of Mental Power are violently awakened.  

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

A surge of warmth and heat melted the wind and snow, the high temperature transmitting through the steel rope.  

626 said, “He’s practically throwing his life away! His own condition is already terrible, yet he’s still releasing Mental Power at such intensity!”  

Jing Rong turned his hand over, soothingly grasping Jue’s. The wind carried his words into Jue’s ears.  

“Thank you. You’ve been a tremendous help. We’ll be down soon.”  

Jing Rong pulled away, and the rope’s warmth cooled inch by inch with distance, yet it still continuously delivered heat to him.  

They were comrades now. Even if he told Jue that such extreme weather would cause him little harm, Jue would still stubbornly exhaust himself to provide him with warmth.  

If Jue didn’t act this way, then he wouldn’t be Jue anymore.  

It was death that had granted him luck and courage.  

Jing Rong lifted his eyes, snowflakes clinging to his brows and lashes, freezing everything over.  

626 said, “Atmospheric ionization is affecting this mountain. There might even be violent thunderstorms in the snow—possibly even a thunderstorm zone.”  

Jing Rong replied, “Understood.”  

626 continued, “Please be extra careful on this stretch. Even for us, things could go wrong.”  

Jing Rong said, “Got it.”  

Having served as an Executor for years, he understood the current situation all too clearly. Brutal, extreme external environments could sometimes be more terrifying than savage, merciless enemies.  

What he sought to alter was the fate of a long-lost figure—the faintest, nearly nonexistent hope.  

Jing Rong moved swiftly through the snow, his lashes and hair already coated in frost, his breath turning to ice.  

Half an hour later, the snowstorm gradually lessened, and the thunder ahead grew unnervingly dense.  

Visibility finally improved to within three meters.  

Jing Rong untied the rope from his waist and went to fetch Jue. Jue’s eyes were nearly shut, his hair similarly blanketed in white. He didn’t see Jing Rong and began to collapse forward, but at the very moment his strength failed, Jue instinctively drove his ice axe into the ground, giving himself a brief support.  

Then, Jing Rong caught him.  

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

He unscrewed the thermos from their supplies and set up a small fire in a sheltered spot. Though the fire was rapidly shrinking, it wouldn’t last much longer.  

Jue’s voice was hoarse as he said, “Brother, leave me here.”  

“You…” Jue coughed violently, his organs feeling as if they were frozen solid. He could clearly sense the waning of his life. “Go take a look for me, then return to find them.”  

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

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

Jue opened his azure eyes, his gaze somewhat unfocused, but he obediently leaned onto Jing Rong’s shoulder.

Jing Rong glanced at the thunderstorm zone ahead. “His mental state isn’t good. The climate here has a strong impact on one’s Mental Power.”

Alerted by his words, 626 suddenly snapped awake. “I see, I understand now! Let me check… Holy shit, man, the Mental Contamination level here has already reached seven hundred! It was zero just down the mountain!”

626 continued, “This place is too eerie, brother! It’s only going to get more dangerous ahead. Please be extra careful!”

Jing Rong nodded, wrapping insulating fabric around them before pressing forward.

The climate in the thunderstorm zone was exceptionally chaotic—flying sand and rolling stones, intense electromagnetic radiation, and massive lightning energy gathering in the atmosphere.

The next violent strike would come within minutes.

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

Even though he had never been here before, Jue could clearly grasp how terrifying the scene before them was.

His voice was extremely weak but still resolute. “Brother… it’s too… dangerous for you to go alone…”

Jing Rong replied, “Nothing will happen.”

His tone was calm as he added, “If anything happens to you, the world will restart for you.”

Jue, nearing semi-consciousness, could no longer comprehend the meaning of those words. He only murmured weakly, “Is… that so?”

“Yes.”

Despite carrying supplies and the weight of a grown man, Jing Rong moved swiftly without faltering.

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

Because his voice persisted, Jue’s consciousness was forcibly anchored. Unaware that Jing Rong had already seen that Spirit Shard, he spoke haltingly, “Alright… it’s something I heard as a child…”

“There was a sword… it… brought peace and happiness…”

“But the protagonist was a stray… the protagonist…”

Jing Rong interjected, “The protagonist had beautiful red hair, didn’t he? And people praised his striking blue eyes.”

Jue’s train of thought was diverted, pausing briefly before responding, “I… think so.”

Jing Rong stared intently at the horizon, where a massive bolt of lightning was about to strike.

He hurled the longsword in his hand—an iron blade—into the sky.

The sword soared upward, disrupting the violent discharge between heaven and earth. The colossal lightning struck the blade, landing mere yards away from them.

The thunderous impact shook the mountains and rivers, nearly dislodging their internal organs.

Jing Rong coughed up a mouthful of blood.

The bleeding didn’t last long, freezing almost instantly.

Unfazed, he continued, “The protagonist was born into wandering, drifting from place to place… scavenging trash, right? Even though he had to scavenge, he wanted that sword. He dreamed of bringing happiness and peace to this land—it was his childhood wish.”

Jue responded intermittently, “He… scavenged trash. One day, he found a sword… but it was rusted…”

Jing Rong said, “He knew it wasn’t the legendary sword, but he still used that rusted blade to bravely protect his bullied companions, didn’t he?”

The two of them took turns weaving a smooth fairy tale, with Jing Rong effortlessly continuing the story each time Jue responded.

Gradually, Jue’s Mental Power stabilized. Though still terribly weak, he didn’t succumb to unconsciousness amid the blizzard.

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

Having passed the mountain peak, the most dangerous period was over.

The view before them was unobstructed.

No longer hindered by snowstorms or bizarre atmospheric ionization, they saw an immense glacier stretching endlessly across the ice field, seemingly reaching the heavens.

626 said, “The Mental Contamination value has reached seventeen hundred!”

Jing Rong monitored Jue’s heartbeat and asked, “What does that mean?”

626 explained, “The Olke Empire’s Mental Weapon ‘Adjudicator’ has a contamination index of fifteen hundred. Anyone stepping onto this ice field will experience intense hallucinations, and severe cases may suffer complete Mental Power disintegration.”

Jing Rong looked toward a canyon entrance on the western side of the ice field, where there were precisely constructed facilities and settlements, with clear wheel tracks marking the ground.

No human traces were visible for now.

626 remarked, “Luckily we didn’t take the main route—this is the gates of hell. Everyone entering here would experience hallucinations and have their Mental Power destroyed.”

626 continued, “But where are the people? I don’t see any signs of human activity here, not even corpses.”

Jing Rong said, “Under the ice.”

626 was startled: “You mean…”

“The cavities beneath the ice run deep, just like the ice field I was in before. There are human ruins and vast hollows from centuries below.”

Jing Rong began unfastening his equipment ropes, making final adjustments to streamline his gear.

Jue’s consciousness was gradually returning.

His Mental Power remained in a suppressed and impacted state, but he wasn’t experiencing hallucinations and remained lucid.

Jue whispered, “Brother.”

Jing Rong grasped one of his hands, speaking calmly, “We’re here. Will you come with me?”

626, listening nearby, couldn’t help interjecting, “It’s extremely dangerous down there. He might die.”

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

Jue slowly nodded.

Jue said, “Thank you, Brother. I’ll 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 greatest happiness of my life.”

If only…

If he could survive beyond tonight…

Jue smiled faintly.

In war, there was no “after.” He’d never had an “after.” He didn’t know how to voice what came next.

Jing Rong said, “I know. I’m honored.”

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

626 asked, “Got any ideas, man?”

Jing Rong said, “What kind of thing would be fed by so many people’s Mental Power?”

626 said, “You mean…”

Jing Rong continued, “The killing intent of thousands of Adjudicators feeds an Adjudicator mental weapon. Then what level of entity would be fed by tens or hundreds of millions of souls pouring into war over twenty years?”

626 sighed deeply, “Damn it, damn it… With this level of technology, could they have fed a Great world level BOSS?”

At that moment, they saw “it.”

Drawn by instinct, Jue sharply turned his head, then was struck speechless by what he saw.

Beneath the ice field, nothing seemed to have happened at first. When that thing emerged, not even the wind changed.

An enormous shadow, towering like a mountain, emerged from beneath the glacier.  

It was a darkness of absolute purity, devouring everything in its path—swallowing the minds of humans, the spirits of birds in flight, even the essence of ice and snow. Wherever it passed, the very soul of the frozen landscape perished.  

Sensing the presence of living beings and the pulse of active Mental Power, it advanced step by step toward the mountain. From the summit, its movement didn’t appear swift, but up close, the sheer terror of its speed became undeniable.  

626 exclaimed, “Fuck, fuck! I got it!”  

626 was rapidly flipping through the unsolved missions of the Greater World—this was a world boss that remained unconquered even after countless attempts across erased timelines.  

“Damn it, I found it. Brother, you sure know how to pick a vacation spot!”  

626 shouted, “World 001. The Executor Bureau has dispatched over two hundred Executors, consuming three hundred thousand world-hours, and still failed to subdue the monster bred in this world.”  

“This is the secret weapon of Ork’s enemy nation. They forged a collective Combat Consciousness Entity from countless human killing instincts, fears, and battle lust. By now, no one can control it anymore. It craves blood and slaughter endlessly, and they’ve been feeding it with Red Islanders and frontline soldiers. But one day, it will cross the frozen wasteland and reach the outside world… and then, nothing will remain.”  

“This is a sealed, 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, “Bro, have you been to this world before?”  

Jing Rong replied, “No.”  

Jing Rong wasn’t in the habit of taking on high-difficulty missions. That was something rookie Executors enjoyed—no matter how many predecessors had tried and failed, they still believed they were the special ones who could alter the worldline.  

Jing Rong said, “If so many Executors have come here before, does that mean this world has undergone multiple resets?”  

His gaze fell on Jue.  

Jue was intently watching the distant “it,” his azure eyes sharp and clear.  

Jue’s condition was terrible, barely able to spare any attention elsewhere. Yet, the moment he entered combat, he still resembled a red wolf poised to strike.

626 said, “Hold on, I’m submitting a query request to the Bureau of Execution… They wouldn’t be that stingy.”  

626 continued, “Alright, the Bureau has sent me all the mission records of previous Executors who came here. Yes, this world has undergone 7,841 resets.”  

“Many Executors were instantly crushed by Mental Power upon entering the ice plains and were sent back to the Main World.”  

“Some seasoned Executors took the same path as us, but some couldn’t make it through the thunderstorm. Only twenty ever faced the BOSS before us—none survived. All of them eventually submitted termination requests.”  

Jing Rong asked, “What were the ranks of those twenty Executors?”  

626 replied, “The highest was S-rank. So, buddy, are you still going for it?”  

Jing Rong remained eerily calm. “Worth a try.”  

His gaze remained fixed on the monstrous entity in the ice plains, his aura subtly shifting into something turbulent.  

In the grand scheme of things, Jing Rong was rated S-rank.  

Only the systems that had worked with him knew the truth—Jing Rong was S-rank because that was the highest rating available.  

The Bureau of Execution had once debated granting him a double-S rating, but Jing Rong himself refused.  

He wasn’t particularly driven by missions, and a long time ago, he had suffered severe injuries during a task, losing parts of his memory.  

His greatest interest now? Finding his wife.  

Jing Rong asked, “What did those who failed and chose to reset the world do?”  

626 answered, “Some tried reverting to the previous timeline to stop the war, but the BOSS still emerged. Others obsessively cut off the War Train’s routes, but the Olker Empire quickly deployed Aircraft… The tide of fate is relentless. Who knows who’ll be the next to stand against it?”  

“What about Jue?” Jing Rong murmured.  

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

“Hundreds of times, he died under the Olke Empire’s pursuit. Hundreds more, he perished from hunger and cold. The closest he ever got was in the last reset—he found the route here and snuck onto the train.”  

626 scrolled through the database. “But in the end, he couldn’t endure the blizzard and thunderstorm. It’s astonishing. Even though he wasn’t the Child of the World, across thousands of resets, he kept trying every possible method to uncover the truth.”  

“When he failed in the last world, he realized he’d never reach Oakvilleke. So this time, he decided to use his own death to pass his Mental Fragments to future generations, letting them investigate instead.”  

“Honestly, he might actually succeed,” 626 said, disbelief coloring its voice. “He was just an ordinary man… yet he came closest to the world’s truth.”  

Jing Rong fell silent.  

A lone wolf, willing to ruin itself completely just to find the world’s answer.  

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

Jing Rong stood up.  

A silver light shimmered in the wind, coalescing in his hand like the breaking dawn.

Jing Rong said, “I don’t have the habit of restarting worlds.”  

His gaze remained steady and composed as he watched the restless black behemoth upon the glacier. Yet, the biting aura of his killing intent had already begun to unsettle the monstrous creature.  

“I won’t watch him perish before my eyes.”