This Chapter is an anti-theft Chapter, and it will be replaced with the main text after five minutes (23:52). At that ti, re-download this Chapter, open the directory, and long-press the Chapter na. There will be no extra charge.
Once you fill the pit enough, you should be able to catch up to this Chapter, but I can only release it first because I’m out of ti, although I haven’t finished writing.
"...am I okay?"
Jiaxie’s heart rate suddenly increased at this ti, affected by the turmoil of emotions within the High Sky Thickness.
He couldn’t bear to forcefully disrupt the linking chains as his eyes, together with the High Sky Thickness and White Fog, were about to open.
Feeling restless, the people slowly entered a sort of hibernation state due to the High Sky Thickness and White Fog. For a brief mont, they all felt uneasy.
Though the White Fog held the promise of possibly curing the Ulaga disease, he felt a slight unease at this mont, yet there was hope in the White Fog lingering in the High Sky Thickness.
"It certainly wouldn’t surpass Jiaxie," he thought, considering the value of the entire chanism City against the value of the White Fog that might cure the Ulaga disease.
Even Jiaxie felt unusually nervous, and that was not ntioning the presence of a group of Steel-toothed sea robbers.
So far, there had been no examples of recovery from Ulaga, only cases of destruction.
If one side is infected with Ulaga, the other hundred percent might be too, crumbling under those data-chains overwheld in the integration of ssages and gender exchange.
The infection rate is over fifteen percent; progressing data-chains with the infected is extrely dangerous.
By evening, when the symptoms of Ulaga show up, emotions all but disappear, leaving an individual with only a single, isolated emotion that can lead to a total ltdown, or even worse, strange mutations.
Seeing a group of Steel-toothed sea robbers already progressing into the state of data-chains of the High Sky Thickness and White Fog, they did not know how to react.
Steel-toothed sea robbers data.
...
...
At this mont, the White Fog finally realised the full answer.
A batch of white-painted Flow Clan chanisms sward in from a junk mountain in an unknown direction, engulfing the entire small town beyond.
The White Fog began ti adjustnt at night... the transformation ca.
Even if they appeared to do regular things like stealing, fighting, playing cards, Han Lang Liu’s actions and movents had no obvious difference from actual lethargy.
He continued to adjust the ti, ticking once every few minutes, stopping to observe for a few minutes with every move.
He might be able to change the calendar; that’s what his guess amounted to.
After manipulating the ti back by three small units, the sky color showed a clear change.
Then, after an adjustnt, he placed the calender from the wall back into the electrical slot, thereby starting the calendar’s history again.
"A calendar is an extrely important tool or reference note. Everything in this place has a purpose. Every icon in the fantasy world has a aning, a sentence with another idea, another layer of aning," said Erleipu. He had already solved so of these enigmatic questions.
White Fog had already figured out solutions to these puzzles.
"What strange thing will happen that can exceed golden crows occupying more than this? Why can’t this small town be even more variable?"
"Are these people expressing emotions through clothing with crow prints on their bodies? Could it be said that these bloated data are ’emotional outbursts’? What is bloating, anyway... Erleipu... room seventy-two, inn room four... "
After integrating all the ssages, White Fog beca more confident in his speculative reasoning.
The purple room indicates ’ɟ’ to open, the gold room ’ɥ’, and the red room ’ɐ’.
Room number 70-s was etched in writing.
At this very mont, White Mist stood outside the blue-colored inn on the second floor, facing the closed door of that room.
All the doors could be opened, all the rooms in every inn were accessible.
But in one of the inns, a certain room was closed. There were four inns, with seventy-two rooms each: red, blue, purple, gold.
White Mist had indeed made a discovery after observing these several inns.
In fact, the very existence of these monochro inns was highly doubtful due to the strange occurrences. White Mist had been observing within several inns for about half an hour now.
The four inns were surprisingly distributed at the four corners. The purple inn, the gold inn.
And yet, even after observing his surroundings once more by circling around the blue inn, White Mist felt sothing odd about this place. Despite his strong belief in his own investigative army unit’s markers, he still had a firm conviction there was no such thing as a blue inn in reality.
That red inn was indeed in the small town of wanderers, and it was actually called Red due to the walls being painted with red crows, hence it was a red inn.
"From what I can see, this is very evident. There is no blue inn after all, and neither Jiaxie nor I knew of it beforehand," he said.
He could still recall what he had seen for himself, but that was not what he intended.
Not long after, White Mist discovered another blue inn on the opposite side of the small town of wanderers.
Leaving the red inn behind, and moving forward to explore elsewhere, the answers began to clear up. White Mist smiled as he looked at the red paint of the crows.
Like a missing piece of a puzzle, he discovered an extra patch of red crow paint on his body when he erged from one of the rooms. White Mist found that every door in every room on the second floor was open.
White Mist reached the red inn on the second floor.
He was certain that he would find the answers to his riddles very quickly because he was searching for certain clues.
With a sequential arrangent of main characters, a subtle implication, White Mist was not in a rush. The increasingly cryptic puzzles led by officials were without clues or deadlines,
"But this is a key tool you must continue to use going forward. This doesn’t have any questions, although it seems to imply sothing — although there are no deadlines. You could help observe this little town closely, but," he continued, ready to move on to the next part.
This was rely due to a certain emotion, causing a sudden swollen accumulation, disjointing thoughts and actions as if at a standstill one day. There were no questions, no deadlines for the protagonists of this world.[
Though there were no deadlines, it seed to hint at sothing — an eye-catching note that gave White Mist certainty.
Changing deadlines recklessly could lead to very serious questions showing up, as deadlines are very important according to chanism City.
On closer inspection, White Mist could see an elaborate sequence of 0s and 1s. By looking at the electronic calendar on the wall of the inn, White Mist, who had just walked into the red inn, caught sight of the date from outside.
Deciding to take a look inside the inn, he discovered that the red inn was the temporary lodging place for Jiaxie and himself, a realization in chanism City.
Observing the buildings closely, White Mist quickly beca familiar with the red inn.
Looking at all these comings and goings, White Mist almost fancied guessing sothing — the streets of the small town were practically brimming with the wandering Han Lang Liu.
The gold crow paint was especially worth ntioning, as it occupied a larger than usual space.
Next to the differently colored outlines, the blue crow paint seed incomplete, as if a piece had been ripped off and taken away suddenly.
Although colors like blue, purple, red, and gold weren’t exactly rare. There were no rules within the crow paintings, as they all featured various colors on the bodies of Flow Clan chanisms, distinct from the reality outside.
This wasn’t hard for White Mist to imagine — that these "strange stacks" were signs of sothing among the Han Lang Liu. It was just one crowded street.
Stepping into the small town, White Mist, unminding, felt there was sothing odd among the many Han Lang Liu. After all, it was another piece of cryptic information.
]Please take a closer look at the small town built of the purest essence. You have already co to unravel the mysteries of this small town; this world is not that big, yet it is vastly larger because it lies in another exterior. Every single thing in this spiritual world has a symbolic aning, so please rember it forever[
The white fog ejected from the eyes.
The village shone with an unusual tallic luster, distinct from the blood-red hue of the junk mountains, possibly due to so particular reason.
Caught unaware, the Flow Clan chanisms had reached the small town enveloped in white fog, now pondering the parts of this that were missing in their minds like the sea.
...
It was not strange to find, upon the dinner plate, sothing resembling human flesh growing on one’s own body, feeling as though it were normal, but this was indeed quite abnormal.
This was indeed very irregular.
They wouldn’t feel any fear towards this oddity. They had no heart to bear any worry; they would turn themselves into chanical bodies or construction material without hesitation.
This white fog made certain of one event— the souls of the Flow Clan chanisms were being hijacked and replaced.
What did this resemble in chanism City at this mont, this question?
Would a stone with a soul possibly use stones as roofing tiles, or would they perhaps exchange ideas if, let’s say, the stones had spirits?
The topic was indeed quite terrifying to expound upon, but the children who spoke on it seed adorably naive; however, Erleipu suddenly thought back to when a child had once naively asked such a question— the white fog.
"Would the dog eat it if you said you boiled dog at for it?" he thought right after.
Many people wished to climb through blood vessels to reach organs, and without count were the blood vessels connecting to the organs floating in the sky, and nurous tiny people lived within the internal parts of the giant bodies.
The entire city was, in fact, one giant body, and the chanical being that was seen was not a chanical corpse but rather a human body.
—This was the shocking scene that the white fog had arrived at very quickly.
These remnants were created from the sa material as the Flow Clan chanisms, and also, therefore, the Material City; if one were to imagine these chanical remnants being turned into flesh and blood.
This was indeed an event that could send shivers down one’s spine. However insensible to fear and terror one might be, the white fog had no way to deal with this.
"...living bodies taking the shape of constructs in their environnt, with people residing within the vastness," he said.
"So these chanical corpses are the bodies of the Flow Clan chanisms—the very idea of it... If that’s the case, then what I recognize as people outside the city might not necessarily represent the environnt, and are instead living alongside the bodies?"
The white fog grew suddenly very curious, gazing at the garbage corpse on both sides.
Many ordinary things might transform into unbelievable entities if such strange rules applied; after all, there were many such peculiarities below the tower.
Walking along the path of the junk mountains, he started to think of a strange event; the world he was coming upon appeared very large.
In this semi-real, semi-illusory world, the white fog slowly began to wander.
...
...
"I must find a source for these unusual eyesores," he said.
He shook his head, deciding it was not the ti to ponder this question.
This career might also be a special designation for human-like devices; without proper attention, one could inevitably end up contorted into a straight soul chanic, speaking as though they were one of the clan.
Could it be that Ulaga’s poisonous disease was the source, and that his vague sensation was the mismatch between chanical bodies and souls? The white fog felt.
The more sentient a person was, the greater this paradox of shield and spear beca; if souls were to rge with data, then this paradox would inevitably occur.
But the very nature of humans is not like that. One mistake, and they still dare, and clearly know there are tigers on the mountain, they prefer to walk towards the tiger hill.
It’s just a segnt of code, a product of an error, a what-if the program ultimately fails, presenting an error report.
A white fog in my heart forged a hazy solution to the riddled thought, honing my eyes with those words.
"Once there’s an error in the data, there’s no way to operate..."
But gradually, random strings of data have appeared. After all, this world still exists, doesn’t it? At the end of the day, isn’t this world just a configuration of 0s and 1s group data?
This world has turned even more blurry, white mist to the point of incomprehensibility—what a very odd phrase. Is it still part of so data world?
]Facing a question, welcoming the challenge—find the anomaly in this world, this anomaly. Once there’s an error in the data, there’s no way to operate, humans will inevitably make errors.
Everything seeks precision here in this world of data conversion. If the soul is installed in a machine, at the ti of a process transition, it will be transford into data, whereas it should be installed in flesh and blood.
But not everything here is real. Although we seem to see very real-like landscapes, and we see a lot of things, if I don’t have you to observe, what would be obvious if I was the old scher?
—The white mist feels that sothing is weird precisely because of the ntion of eyes, a cause for hinting at this peculiar everything.
The white mist is fading away very quickly within these Ya Gang pirates.
These people dressed in black, seem to be going to attend so funeral, these Ya Gang pirates seem suspicious.
But on top of the shadowy outlines of the motorcycle hearses, the infinite numbers one and zero were very conspicuously evident. At this mont, there were several groups of motorcycle hearses howling past.
It seed like they were connected to the two sides of the chanical corpses. In the end, not subrged in the garbage mountains, they were walking flesh just like walking corpses, with the white mist against their backs.
But the white mist could still see so virtual figures when looking in another direction at tis.
I can’t see anything at all... but as the white mist followed the wailing crying in the distance, at tis a distant cry would be transmitted from people.
The white mist has not changed as much except for being startled by the amount of waste corpse remains.
Remaining waste corpses are piled up on both sides, like flanks of a canyon.
Everything here seems to be ticulously detailed, but when I saw the twisted world inside, my eyes inadvertently provided new perspectives, because the white mist had originally thought it would experience a twisted world.
White mist was still unclear whether this world was a world of spirits or just a world of data.
A kind of cleaving sensation presented itself, allowing this raw and real world of data.
"This here should rightly be the world of spirits, not wrong,"
But very quickly, he refuted that point due to the fact that the scenery felt real, and they had a similar sensation the last ti he was advancing toward Zao Lake Village.
White mist will discover that this is not a world of spirits, but a world of data if looked at more closely. That’s just what white mist might find out.
Amid the air, zeros and ones occasionally burst forth—aside from the red-filtered mirror, it seems like I’m looking at my front view and it all cos together in a sort of surrounding.
The waste at both sides seems even more formidable at a glance, adding to the impressive view. Yet it’s different from the waste mountains of chanism City, here are piles of countless broken chanical corpses, dripping with oil.
A new scene will generally give a hint, like I’ve just entered sothing new.
]"This twisted soul is very easily corrected, it’s just Ulaga poison at an early stage in front of the world you’re traveling, you just have to be able to see it, understand all the matters and the right responses to everything, and you’ll be able to unravel this road’s puzzle. Because Ulaga poison hasn’t reached the stage of ’twisting’ to manipulate," they say, it’s a certain aning, it hasn’t arrived yet[
The waste mountain with the red color of blood is what is seen when white mist opens their eyes, like having just passed through a morial stone of so outer world tower.
(Thanks to Book Pal Cold Pioneer 54321 for the bounty! 01/31 Reflecting complete, the silver-white league machine no longer needs upgrades.)
User Comments
0 comments from readers