Chapter 13

If it’s like this, there’s no other option but to stick with the clumsy method from the start.

“Illusory things are like fleeting dreams—ungraspable, yet profoundly real. You should have adapted to your ability by now. Everything still requires you to explore on your own. Why it exists—I don’t know either. So, farewell. If you seek answers, come to the Broken Void Realm. That’s where this ability manifests. As for the exact location? I have no clue, so don’t expect any details from me. I only hope you grow quickly, find this place through your own power. Boy, I believe in you!”

At that moment, a faint voice only Yi Zhen could hear drifted in—and from that instant, he believed he truly possessed a special ability, for no matter how desperately he called out in his mind, the voice never paused, merely murmuring on as if it had always been speaking to itself, yet only reaching Yi Zhen’s ears.

As for his verbal shouts, they were blocked—no matter how loudly he spoke, the two beside him remained unchanged: one meticulously scrolling through his phone, the other staring blankly, as if frozen in dumbness. If not for the delicate lotus-finger gesture he still held, he might’ve seemed merely foolish—and Yi Zhen really wanted to punch him.

Alas, right now, only his head could move; the rest of his body was as if bound by a paralysis spell—any effort to stir was useless, only exhausting him further. What the hell? Where do I complain? To the Broken Void Realm? I don’t even know where that is—how can I even begin? Forget it. Go with the flow. Since I have this ability, I must accomplish something. First, aim for top of the class? This brain must’ve been modified—now, recalling questions I used to memorize but always forgot, I solve them in a few breaths, even deriving complex formulas.

He now realized being bound had its perks: his thoughts could snap into focus instantly, unlike earlier when he felt drained, and even with energy flowing in, it was like a drop in the ocean—barely enough to soothe his hunger, offering negligible help. That’s why he’d been so desperate to get out and find food—this was purely about filling his stomach, with laser-sharp purpose.

Of course, all this assumed he had his phone. Whether it worked or not, he had to take it outside. Could he really ask someone else to bring him food again? No way—he already owed three pancakes. He had to be self-reliant. He’d never been the type to beg, unless truly cornered. Luckily, this voice had helped him, and clarified everything in passing.

Perhaps, with his phone, he could finally shake off this cursed state. For now, he could only wait for Zhen Lin’s good news. Ugh—he hadn’t even realized he needed the voice in his ear to snap him awake. He’d better be quicker to react from now on. This enhanced brain couldn’t be wasted—what’s the difference between it and a useless one?

His current state was oddly strange: the voice never responded to him again, and after speaking, it vanished entirely. Though he’d regained control of his body, the lingering effects of his earlier frantic twisting remained—worsening his condition. His mind grew foggy again, unable to concentrate. He still felt weak, exhausted, sleepy, yet oddly energized—barely holding on, refusing to pass out.

No one noticed his subtle change; they carried on calmly, one lost in daydreaming, the other still searching—quiet, orderly.

…

Zhen Lin had scoured the floor thoroughly but found no trace of the phone. He decided to turn back and ask Yi Zhen for a rough location.

Searching too long without results easily saps one’s patience.

“Yi Zhen, Yi Zhen, do you remember where it fell? If you can give even a general direction, it’d help a lot—we haven’t seen a single hair of it yet.”

Zhen Lin completely ignored Ming Yang, who looked like a dumb fool, choosing to treat him as invisible. Since he’d promised Yi Zhen, he had to deliver. He couldn’t just promise one thing, then immediately ignore him—that’d make him no better than a liar. Unless Ming Yang truly reformed, he’d consider breaking his word. But for now? Go sit somewhere cool and stay out of his way—he didn’t even bother to look at him.

“By the door. Look carefully. It should be nearby. Thanks for your trouble.”

Hearing Zhen Lin’s question, Yi Zhen forced himself to recall the exact spot where his phone vanished before he passed out. The effort sent sharp pain through his skull, but he had to do it—this determined whether he could recover quickly. Suffering now was nothing; soon, he’d reap the reward.

Fortunately, though his mind was foggy, fragments surfaced: a blurry image of a hand—his own hand—holding a phone with its screen lit, still on the customer service page. Then it slipped free, flying forward. Judging by the direction, it must’ve headed toward the door. After that, the vision vanished completely. No matter how hard he tried, no more images came—only the certainty of the location mattered. The rest was irrelevant. If he couldn’t remember, don’t force it.

“OK.”

Zhen Lin understood—the search area was now narrowed. If it was just near the door, it’d be easy: the space was open, no need to crouch and scrutinize every inch. A single glance could tell if it was there or not.

“Front door’s clear. Check the back door.”

Zhen Lin sped up his search, even checking corners beside the door. Still nothing. But he wasn’t discouraged yet—there were still two spots near the door left. Two more searches, then done. Ugh, he’d need a cold shower after this—he was sweating buckets. This weather was bizarre: scorching hot one moment, freezing the next, with barely any normal days. It could suddenly rain, drenching you like a dog’s piss, then stop just as mysteriously, while the sun kept blazing away as if nothing happened. So damn annoying.

Forget the weird weather—right now, he had to keep searching. Yi Zhen never lied. If he wasn’t sure, he wouldn’t speak. He’d prefer Yi Zhen pinpoint the exact spot, but since even Yi Zhen couldn’t be certain, he’d search this area. It had to be here somewhere. Trust Yi Zhen!

He pulled open the wide door, twisted the handle, and shut it behind him—making the area behind it fully visible. Aside from a few shoe prints, there was nothing.

Nothing again?!

That’s problematic. If it’s not under the storage shelves either, this search is a total failure. That wouldn’t be good.

He reflexively glanced back at Yi Zhen’s direction—and locked eyes with him. No words needed. He knew Yi Zhen had been watching the whole time, waiting for the moment he’d get the phone back and reveal the most thrilling moment. But he’d finish searching before drawing conclusions. Maybe he’d just missed a detail. Now he had to look closely.

He pulled his gaze back, crouched down again, this time pulling out his phone. He’d already turned off the control panel’s lights. Then he switched on the flashlight and shone it beneath the storage shelves.