Ming Po knew this ancient Greek myth.
Sisyphus, the king of Corinth, was once arrogant enough to deceive the gods. As a mortal, he chained up the God of Death, ensuring that mortals on earth would no longer die. Later, when Zeus ordered Death's release, Sisyphus faced the reckoning and was dragged into the Underworld. Yet, he deceived the Queen of the Underworld once more, managing to escape back to the realm of the living unscathed.
But this ti, he was caught by the gods again. He was condemned to the Underworld to endlessly push a massive boulder up a hill. The punishnt would only end when the boulder reached the peak. However, it was a trap—on those steep, jagged cliffs, the mont the heavy stone reached the top, it would inevitably roll down the other side. It was an eternal, inescapable tornt.
How similar this was to the Ga of Deception.
Those cunning individuals who deceived the gods had usurped their authority, rewriting the fate that "all mortals must die." They had tried to escape death, only to fail in the end.
Furthermore...
"Kill all Deceivers of the World."
Was this not also a Sisyphean... act of futility?
Even if he could kill one person, or a hundred... even if he managed to kill a thousand or ten thousand, he could not stop them from killing more people and creating even more Deceivers.
Even the slain Deceivers could alter history, allowing them to resurrect in a new worldline after the total collapse of the current world.
If they could not be wiped out in one fell swoop, their numbers would only multiply.
Was the myth of Sisyphus not a taphor for the Ga of Deception itself?
"One must imagine Sisyphus happy."
The words suddenly slipped from his lips.
The mont he spoke them, Ming Po himself paused in surprise.
He knew the quote belonged to Albert Camus, but he wasn't entirely sure what it ant. It was almost as if... soone had repeatedly spoken those words to him in the past.
Thinking about his missing mories, Ming Po suddenly felt... rather displeased.
Why was he missing so much of his past?
What kind of person had he been?
The more Ming Po thought about it, the more agitated he beca.
Even under the suppression of the "Detective" title, a murderous urge gradually began to well up within him.
He wanted to crush sothing, or tear soone apart.
And, entirely unnoticed by Ming Po himself... his deep blue eyes flickered with an unsettling, dim yellow glow.
"...Hmm."
Suddenly, Ming Po had an idea that might help him sort through his chaotic mories.
Once he made up his mind, the erratic flickering in his eyes quietly dissipated.
He first poured himself a glass of alcohol.
Because the proof was exceptionally high, Ming Po poured only a tiny amount, roughly a bottle cap's worth. The peridot-colored liquid looked quite beautiful. Hovering over it, he could sll faint traces of lemon and mint, along with an overwhelmingly pungent scent of anise, mixed with a strange, unidentifiable odor. He leaned in to take a sniff, and the sharp sll made him slightly dizzy.
Ming Po couldn't help but frown.
...It slled like it would taste absolutely terrible.
This stuff seed worse than traditional herbal dicine...
"I rember... isn't absinthe supposed to be mixed with sothing before drinking?"
He thought for a mont but couldn't recall.
Whatever, he would just mix it with cold cola.
So, Ming Po walked into Ai Shiping's room, grabbed a can of cold cola, and poured it into his glass.
The ratio of cola to alcohol was at least five to one. That was enough to mask most of the strange flavor.
This was also a good opportunity to test if the alcohol's effects would still trigger when mixed with ice or water.
Otherwise, if he obtained strong spirits like vodka later on... Ming Po really wouldn't be able to stomach them straight.
Closing his eyes, Ming Po downed the mixture in one gulp.
After finishing it, he couldn't help but shudder.
The taste was incredibly bizarre, like a handful of fennel and a vial of herbal heatstroke dicine had been dumped into the cola. He didn't know if it was the natural taste of the absinthe or the result of adding the soda.
Right then, a surging wave of madness rose from his stomach, crashing into his brain in an instant.
He snapped his eyes open, his deep blue pupils instantly dyed a dim yellow. The power of the [Detective] title failed to hold it back for even a second. That cold, rational... even sowhat sluggish and depressive feeling instantly turned into restless agitation.
It was like a bookworm in a foul mood being forcibly dragged into a nightclub by a friend. Covering their ears against the deafening music, they could no longer maintain their aloof deanor.
As the nose-tingling harshness gradually faded, he felt the heavy burden in his mind start to lift.
"...This feeling is much more comfortable," Ming Po sighed, rubbing his forehead.
His whole body felt refreshed, his mind clear. It felt like stepping out of a shower, with every pore on his body breathing.
A faint coolness lingered on his forehead—the influence of the Detective had not yet completely vanished. It felt like the sensation left in the throat after swallowing a sip of iced mint water.
With the blessing of the [Madman's Silver Crown], Ming Po was very confident that he could clear the Promotion ga.
But, before that...
Ming Po took out an Hour's Red Copper.
He had sothing to verify.
Those chaotic mories in his mind could only suddenly resurface under specific circumstances—like encountering a related event. Other mories had been swallowed whole, impossible to recall no matter how hard he tried.
It was like a forgotten elentary school classmate.
Sotis you forget their na, sotis their face. But sotis, you don't even rember they ever existed in your class.
For so reason, Ming Po's subconscious had always been restraining him from using the Ti Chips.
And now, having realized this, even that "restraint" had beco part of his "rebellion."
He truly didn't know when he died, so he couldn't accurately return to the exact mont before his death.
However...
He didn't need to return exactly to that point.
In Ming Po's rembered tiline, he died in 2023.
But when Ming Po altered the cause of Ai Shiping's death, the ti in this world suddenly shifted to 2026.
Therefore, he really only needed to try returning to so point between 2023 and 2026.
If he had already beco one of the Wronged Dead during that ti, the chip would fail to activate because he was already dead. Conversely, if he wasn't dead yet, he could jump straight back.
He didn't need to change anything; he only needed to confirm that he could return! As long as he ca right back imdiately after landing, he wouldn't alter the past, and thus wouldn't affect his transformation into a Deceiver of the World or cause Ai Shiping and Gao Fan to inexplicably vanish.
As long as he had enough chips, Ming Po could use a process of elimination to pinpoint the exact ti of his death!
And then, jump straight back to right before he died!
That way, Ming Po could finally figure out exactly what had happened!
Ming Po didn't want to be pushed around in the dark anymore, nor did he want to listen to any more riddlers coming to him with vague nonsense. He had had enough.
He couldn't shake the feeling that he had beco soone else's pawn.
And now, it was ti for him to jump off the chessboard...
Or perhaps, flip the board entirely.
"Let's start the test then."
Ming Po held up the chip, gazing at it.
His pupils shone with a dazzling, dim yellow light.
He solemnly declared, "[Let return to January 1st, 2026, at twelve noon.]"
As he spoke, Ming Po crushed the chip in his hand.
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