Chapter 251

Every time he trembled in pain, an invisible energy flowed along those lines toward the void, finally merging into Zhou Weihong's solidified projection.

Lin Yu was besieged by seven puppets, and under the suppression of the brain-domain field, even condensing the form of his Void energy became difficult.

A large hole was torn in the left shoulder of his tactical suit, blood dripping down along his combat boots.

Veins bulged on his forehead, and he smashed both fists into the chest of the nearest puppet, only to be easily parried away.

"Don't waste your effort. These modified humans were improved using your genes; by seniority, they count as half your father." Zhou Weihong's tone was playful, "The brain-domain lock can even automatically analyze your combat patterns and make predictions in advance."

Xuanyuan Qing slid down against the cold wall, her right wrist hanging at an odd angle.

The tuner not far away had been kicked out of shape, curled in the corner, occasionally flashing a faint electric spark.

Xu Chen hadn't climbed up yet when the puppet wearing Xiao Chengzhou's tactical suit reached him.

The cold mechanical palm opened, grabbing toward the back of his neck.

Just then, the holographic projection at the top of the laboratory twisted and flickered violently.

Amidst the data turbulence, Xu Jianhua's shattered face flashed by.

His knuckle-less right hand, before dissipating, pointed fiercely downward, past Zhou Weihong's image.

The target—an inconspicuous ventilation duct opening in the corner of the laboratory.

"Over there!" Xu Chen's throat was hoarse, veins bulging on his neck, and he roared at Lin Yu and Xuanyuan Qing, ignoring the churning pain in his brain.

The two looked in the direction he pointed.

Deep in the ventilation duct, under the bleak light of the emergency lamp, there seemed to be a mark drawn with grease on the inner wall, shining with a greasy light.

Lin Yu's pupils shrank.

The next second, the gold-black energy exploded without regard for anything!

He didn't resist head-on as Zhou Weihong had predicted, but instead retreated three steps, then shot toward the ceiling like a cannonball!

His white hair wrapped around the exposed steel beam, his body drawing an arc in the air as he lunged straight for the ventilation duct opening.

"Go!"

Lin Yu's palm was like a knife, splitting the rusted ventilation grille, and simultaneously he grabbed Xu Chen by the back of the neck, throwing him directly into the pitch-black duct.

A long rope condensed from gold-black energy was flung toward Xuanyuan Qing.

Xuanyuan Qing gritted her teeth, grabbed the energy rope with her left hand, and was yanked up, crashing into the duct opening.

Behind her, two puppets couldn't stop their momentum, their foreheads slamming heavily into the hard metal wall, creating two deep pits.

Zhou Weihong's projection stood in place, not immediately ordering a pursuit.

That withered old face actually revealed a bit of playful interest, as if watching a show.

"Run, little mice."

"I spent thirty years setting up this maze; if I don't let you turn around in it properly, how could I live up to my intentions?"

The ventilation duct suddenly sloped downward, the angle very steep.

The three couldn't control their bodies and slid down.

The soles of Lin Yu's tactical boots scraped against the rough duct walls, sparks flying everywhere.

The bronze liquid seeping from Xuanyuan Qing's palm dripped onto the duct wall, leaving behind several fleeting fluorescent marks.

Xu Chen only felt the world spinning; the back of his school uniform was still frighteningly hot, and those eerie blue patterns were still flashing, though they didn't seem as blindingly bright as before.

"The receiver signal is being interfered with," Xuanyuan Qing caught her breath, enduring the sharp pain in her wrist, and glanced at Xu Chen's back, "The material of this duct is problematic; it might be shielding a portion."

The end of the duct suddenly opened up.

The three couldn't stop their momentum, rolling into a ball and falling into a larger space.

This place looked like an abandoned power transfer station.

Several old-fashioned incandescent bulbs hung from the ceiling, their filaments flickering, the light dim and yellow.

The walls were covered in thick cables like spiderwebs, many interfaces exposed, emitting dangerous sizzling sounds.

The console in the center was covered in dust, the screens long since black.

"What the fuck is this place?" Xu Chen climbed up, his school uniform brushing against a filing cabinet that was about to fall apart, making him cough.

Lin Yu stood firm, looking around, his tactical boots crunching on the fragments of electronic components on the ground: "Looking at the layout, it looks like one of the Zero Machine's former energy transfer stations. It's been abandoned for at least twenty years."

Xuanyuan Qing walked to the wall, carefully checking the exposed lines, her fingers brushing over a set of rusted copper wiring terminals: "No, there's still a faint current. It could restart at any time."

The burning sensation on Xu Chen's back slowly receded, and the blue light of the patterns dimmed.

But those chaotic memory fragments that had been forcibly stuffed into his brain earlier were still buzzing, making him feel nauseous.

As soon as Xu Chen's hand touched the metal edge of the laboratory bench, a chill drilled into his bones from his fingertips, making him shiver violently.

The entire laboratory seemed to be wrapped in a layer of sticky blue film; the console, the centrifuge, and even the waste bucket in the corner were all faintly glowing with a sickly light.

There was an indescribable stuffiness in the air, pressing on one's chest, every breath carrying the smell of rust and decay.

The damn tattoo on his back suddenly burned again, as if branded by charcoal, making Xu Chen wince and cold sweat break out.

"Welcome to my emotional greenhouse."

Zhou Weihong's voice drifted over, devoid of any human quality, echoing in the empty laboratory.

"This place has stockpiled the despair of the first batch of failures of the Zero Return Project; fresh enough, right? Have you felt the crushed dreams, the betrayed trust, and... the hope that has been completely extinguished?"

Lin Yu's fists critted, his tactical boots twisting an imprint into the grease-stained floor: "Shut your stinking mouth, you old lunatic!"

Zhou Weihong's voice carried a hint of pleasure: "The beauty of the brain-domain lock is that it not only collects emotions but can also amplify specific types. For example... despair."

As soon as the words fell, the light in the corner of the laboratory began to twist, and several blurry figures seeped out of the shadows, like ink wash paintings smearing on a damp wall.

They squirmed and struggled, their outlines gradually becoming clear.

Lin Yu's face sank: "Memory echoes of early experimental failures!"

"Watch out!" Xuanyuan Qing shouted, "They've been twisted and strengthened by the old guy's brain-domain field, leaving only aggression!"

Before she could finish, those gray-black shadows lunged over silently.

They weren't physical entities, but more like concentrated malice, crashing straight into the depths of one's consciousness, trying to dig out the things one feared most.

Lin Yu only felt the gold-black energy in his body like it was stuck in a quagmire, both astringent and heavy, unable to be raised at all. Negative emotions polluted the energy core like a virus, making it difficult for him to even maintain a simple shield.

Xu Chen's vision went black, and the scene of his father falling to his death came again.

Once, and then again.

Xu Jianhua fell from a high building, smashed onto the ground in a bloody mess, and then, that pile of rotten flesh convulsed and stood up, step by step, climbing back to the roof, and jumping again.

This cycle was like a rusted gear, stuck in his brain, grinding his nerves circle after circle. He clutched his head, his stomach churning.

Xuanyuan Qing bit her lip, the taste of blood spreading in her mouth.

She pressed the remaining silver bell fragments against her forehead, the cold touch barely allowing her to maintain a trace of clarity.

She tried to trigger that familiar 4200-hertz frequency again, the buzzing sound intermittent.

The silver bell fragments emitted a faint warmth, supporting a thin, crumbling halo of light around the three of them.

The lunging memory echoes crashed into the halo, their movements clearly lagging for a moment.