As this thought crossed his mind, Ming Po froze for a split second.
It was not a mont of self-doubt—
Rather, Ming Po had beco acutely aware of sothing else: why was he suddenly able to think with such profound clarity?
Ming Po had a solid grasp of psychology, but he disliked analyzing himself.
Constantly dissecting one's own mind and stripping away the shell of emotion made it all too easy to amplify minor, sensitive emotional fluctuations. Repeatedly scrutinizing one's own actions in an attempt to distill the subconscious would only breed anxiety and exacerbate ntal exhaustion.
Ming Po had never been soone who liked to overcomplicate things internally.
If he disliked sothing, he wouldn't do it. If he didn't want to think about sothing, he simply shut it out.
Yet now, his mind had grown sharper. He was coldly and ruthlessly dissecting the very mories he wished to avoid, the details he refused to dwell on—even the aspect of his "self" that he feared.
It was nothing more than a form of self-execution.
It wouldn't make him healthier or more resolute; it was rely carving into his own flesh. It would only bring him greater pain and confusion—aside from that, it solved absolutely nothing.
This was psychology.
Although Ming Po hadn't majored in applied psychology, he knew full well that psychology couldn't solve practical problems.
It was more like an anesthetic, assisting in the treatnt of psychological issues and alleviating emotional pain. It was also akin to cold dicine: its primary purpose was to prevent the condition from worsening, ensuring the patient didn't die first, and then waiting for the body to heal itself.
For this exact reason, even therapists needed supervision themselves.
Because one could not cure themselves.
Yet the current Ming Po was deriving a bizarre sense of pleasure from this self-dissection and self-judgnt.
It felt sowhat similar to a child fantasizing about their own death just to see their parents consud by regret. Logically speaking, this was an early indicator of depression. The root cause lay in a sense of self-worth plunging below the critical threshold, coupled with a weakened capacity to experience pleasure, rendering normal activities incapable of providing sufficient joy.
Consequently, the individual would seek to dissipate their sense of powerlessness through self-punishnt, escape fear by "disappearing," gain security by ending their "unease," and satisfy their feeling of neglect by punishing others.
Isolating this state of mind undeniably proved that Ming Po was far more sensitive right now than usual.
If there was anything different from his past self, it was probably the newly acquired Title.
"Silence of the Lambs..."
Ming Po murmured.
What did this Title an?
He felt this Title was sowhat familiar, but he couldn't recall its origin.
Beside him, Gao Fan looked over in surprise. "Are you going to watch a movie?"
'Is it a movie?'
Ming Po blinked and calmly replied with a question, "Do you have it here?"
"Yeah."
"I actually think..."
Beside them, Ai Shiping, who had been listening quietly with his arms crossed for quite so ti, simply shook his head. "More like Ah Po wants to eat soone."
He was rarely this quiet.
His eyes held undisguised worry as he looked at Ming Po.
Ming Po rely glanced at him and guessed what Ai Shiping was thinking right then.
He was worried about him.
It seed he had sensed a kind of "smoky" unease from Ming Po's abnormal behavior and unusual anxiety.
—Smoky?
Ming Po froze.
In that very mont, the taste of smoked ham appeared in his mouth.
Connecting this with Ai Shiping's ntion of "eating soone," Ming Po suddenly recalled a fragnt of mory, vaguely realizing the true aning behind Silence of the Lambs—
Professor Hannibal?
The instant he realized this, Ming Po imdiately clenched his fists.
Sothing wasn't right.
The gaps in his mory still hadn't recovered—and he hadn't even noticed. Or rather, he didn't know when he had started ignoring this fact.
When he first entered the ga Death of the Minority, Ming Po hadn't rembered anything, his arrogant actions resembling a villain. The more "familiar things" he saw, the more mories he recalled.
Now, he had almost forgotten that he had ever lost his mory, mistakenly believing he had already completely recovered his past.
"A movie... I really do need to watch it."
Ming Po said to Ai Shiping and Gao Fan, nodding apologetically. "You two can decide when to play a ga."
"Then I'll just wait for you to finish."
Sensing that Ming Po's rationality had recovered sowhat, Ai Shiping yawned, becoming a bit listless. "I'm going to get so sleep and rest—Ah Po, when exactly do you sleep? Are you trying to out-grind your bros to death? Even if Deceivers of the World don't need sleep, you can't just play gas non-stop.
"You've only been a Deceiver for what, three or four days? You've already played five gas! That's more than one a day... I'm exhausted!"
"True."
Gao Fan also nodded, advising, "I usually only start a ga after I've fully adjusted my state.
"Even during the busiest tis when I was being 'rented out,' I only played one ga every two days—if you're too tired, your condition will drop. That's why Deceivers have so many forms of entertainnt. Do you want to... take a break too?"
"No need."
Ming Po didn't explain the existence of his "countdown." He just shook his head firmly. "I'll watch the movie, and after that, I'll participate in the Promotion."
"Ah, then I'll go rest."
Ai Shiping said, snapping his fingers with a laugh. "When you get out, take your bro to crush so noobs."
He now had a considerable amount of confidence; evidently, his cultivation in the "Brother Realm" had stabilized.
Until the next major incident, it was highly unlikely he would drop back down to the "Father and Son Realm" in the short term.
"Then I—"
Gao Fan was also silent for a mont before speaking up, "I'll go for my Promotion too."
Hearing this, both Ming Po and Ai Shiping looked at him in surprise.
Ai Shiping, who had been about to turn and leave, suddenly found his feet rooted to the floor.
"No, Xiao Fan—you don't have to force yourself to keep up with our pace."
Ai Shiping was the first to advise against it. "We're both going for a Promotion, but we aren't pressuring you. We're friends—you don't have to be 'useful' to be a friend, right?"
"True."
Ming Po also nodded, offering an extrely rare word of comfort to soone else. "Even if you stay at Day's False Gold for the rest of your life, we will never abandon you."
After all, Gao Fan could be considered Ming Po's second friend.
He cherished his friends quite a bit—soone as shaless as Ai Shiping might occasionally catch a swift kick, but with soone like Gao Fan, who was always cautious and occasionally depressed, Ming Po was very gentle, except for the pressure he applied right after they t.
Gao Fan was timid, and they both knew it; he disliked the Ga of Deception and hated the high-intensity competition and mutual slaughter—they understood this as well.
"I just feel like—things can't continue like this."
Gao Fan said earnestly, "That man... my father, gave a wake-up call.
"Even though I have no intention of joining Noble Blood, that doesn't an they won't co looking for . Deceivers are resources in themselves, even a type of Treasure—I've intentionally ignored this fact in the past, but it won't change just because of that.
"You two can certainly protect and help —but only I can truly protect myself.
"I don't want to be a burden. I don't want to always be the one getting 'carried'—I want to help you too!"
Hearing this, Ming Po and Ai Shiping fell silent for a mont.
Ming Po nodded slowly. "Alright."
He didn't say much else, simply patting Gao Fan on the shoulder to encourage him. "Do your best, brother. We'll be waiting for you."
Ai Shiping just chuckled softly, no longer trying to dissuade him, and draped an arm over Gao Fan's other shoulder. "I'll be waiting for your triumphant return, bro—just don't lock your brothers out of your base while you're at it."
Gao Fan didn't smile at this; he just gave a slow, incredibly solemn nod. "Of course."
He looked at Ming Po and suddenly proposed, "How about—we enter the ga at the sa ti and see who cos out first?"
"Sure."
Ming Po raised an eyebrow.
It wasn't a competition of points, but solely of ti. This way, even soone weaker like Gao Fan stood a chance at winning.
That was the only way a bet had any aning.
The corners of Ming Po's mouth curled up, revealing a wild, arrogant grin. "Then—care to place a wager?"
"Let's bet on calling the winner 'Big Brother'. How about it?" Gao Fan displayed a rare burst of assertiveness.
"..."
"—Alright!"
Ming Po spoke, declaring without a second of hesitation, "It's a bet!"
User Comments
0 comments from readers