[Time gold principal 99N invested.]

[The digit of the 『Scale Planning』 ability has been permanently expanded to the tens digit.]

Hong Haocheng quietly sensed the message within his heart.

A truly marvelous ability. With just one upgrade of the so-called “digit,” the Sail-Ink Drawing consumed to trace the life tracks of others was instantly reduced by one order of magnitude.

[I can now use a scale of 1000:1 to trace the life breath track.]

“A one-thousand-to-one scale… Even though my transformed Sail-Ink Drawing reserves are still abundant, I must not waste them.”

Zhang Miao wanted to urge him on, but he didn’t quite dare. The person in front of him had clearly lost his companion Demonic Nightmare, yet he still possessed a strange power within him. This filled Zhang Miao with astonishment, as if the certain information he had known about the Red Model for so long had lost its guiding role when applied to Hong Haocheng.

Hong Haocheng thought of the graceful figure that had nestled against his chest, feeling a pang of anguish in his heart. Such a lonely soul had ultimately chosen him.

“These vast numbers of Sail-Ink Drawings are all my bad wife’s dowry; I’ll have to use them sparingly.”

He intended to fully preserve this Sail-Ink Drawing belonging to Xu Fei, as a precaution against the possibility that it might play some unexpected role one day.

Hong Haocheng sensed what he called the “timeline force.”

He had come to realize that this was a good thing, seemingly gained by killing someone—a kind of item that could offset one’s lifespan.

“Over a thousand years left? To unlock the third ‘Node,’ you need nine hundred and ninety-nine years?”

He turned his head to look at Zhang Miao, his gaze burning intensely.

“Where can I get my hands on some Chronos?”

Caught off guard by the sudden question, Zhang Miao was startled and quickly replied, “Cruxspace——you can get it from beasts, mutated creatures, and Demonic Nightmares.”

Hong Haocheng nodded. He no longer hesitated for even a moment. The over a thousand years within this ring instantly were reduced by ninety percent.

[9N units of Chrono Principal invested.]

[The capacity of the Scale Planning slot has been permanently expanded to the hundred-rank.]

[I can trace the course of Life’s Breath at a 100:1 scale.]

[I will trace the course of our target’s Life’s Breath at a 100:1 scale! I… I—is it **we**?]

“I **am** we!”

Hong Haocheng’s hand resumed its work, the arm that had earlier felt as if blocked by an immense force now moving slightly faster—though still at about the speed of a toddler’s. At the 100:1 scale, a distance of forty-three kilometers would require four thousand three hundred kilometers of Sail-Ink Drawing.

But even this now fell within the range he could endure.

His hand soon sketched out a small portion of the “city’s outline” and the “trace of emerald waters”—the terrain recorded by the Demonic Nightmare plane’s line of sight. A dashed parabolic arc ran from the heart of the city to an explosion landing zone, then lifted off again, extending forward all the way into the water beyond.

It measured only 43.3 cm in total.

This segment represented the entire cyclic journey of the Demonic Nightmare plane—from the moment it first gained consciousness to the end of its life. He could have drawn it smaller or larger, but on the wall of this cabin, only this scale made its form appear the most harmonious.

[I am about to separate my awareness of ‘we.’]

As the last trace was rendered, just as the invisible force illuminated the dotted line, Hong Haocheng felt himself falter. A glimmer of light flashed within the model on his chest.

The illusion swaying back and forth within the cabin suddenly tightened, shrinking into a tiny plane phantom the size of a finger, which then slid toward him.

Two pairs of eyes watched the paper-thin airplane shadow descend from the cabin. As the floating light point from Hong Haocheng’s chest came into contact with it, the tiny airplane shadow drifted down and landed upon that 43.3-centimeter-long map.

With a flick of his finger, Hong Haocheng rapped sharply on the cabin wall in front of him.

“From now on, I will retrace your path step by step—day after day, year after year.”

A crisp tapping sound echoed as the map suddenly exploded into a hazy, ethereal mindscape.

Zhang Miao turned his head in sheer awe. The surrounding space seemed to transform into a real-life blur of an entire city towering around him! An airplane phantom appeared through the clouds, glided toward the city’s edge, lingered briefly, then proceeded to a distant stretch of water—this cycle repeating without end.

“Brother Hong, what… what is all this?”

Hong Haocheng turned around, his eyes grown noticeably dimmer, as if deep fatigue had settled in.

“A record.”

“A record?”

Knowing they ought not linger here any longer, Hong Haocheng began searching for things they could take away—especially the marriage certificate that had fallen into a corner during the plane’s violent swaying.

“Because of my drawing, their souls will fall a little slower.”

……

A few dozen li away from the hemispherical structure standing on the horizon—

In the shadowy mountainous terrain, where bizarre rocks stood like jagged forest.

Atop the highest boulder, a strangely silhouetted figure clad in something akin to a straw rain-cape stood silently, gazing down upon the earth.

Not long after, the steady earth showed a flickering green shade in brief turbulence; a moment later, it resumed still calm, and that fleeting burst of moved color vanished entirely.

The mountain rock stood still, as the bleak wind swept by. On the highest stone, no one remained.

……

Zorro arrived at the Documentation Department once more. This was his ninth visit this month, yet regarding the ancient bookshelf mentioned in that secret manual, he had found nothing.

Zorro sat down at a plain desk beside a bookshelf, opened a book, and began to read.

Seated here, the bookshelf in front of him seemed even more like a thick, towering wall. He couldn’t help but turn to look—these tall bookshelves, though numerous, were not truly a vast ocean if counted. One afternoon would be enough to tally them all.

“After searching for days with no trace, I might as well take them one by one.”

For now, Zorro intended to patiently start with the shelf before him, for example, the book in his hand contained detailed data on a certain numbered map area.

Light footsteps sounded. A man of medium build, around his thirties, wearing round-framed glasses, stood before Zorro.

“Hello. These past few days, I’ve noticed you seem to be searching for something but haven’t found it, am I right?”

Zorro looked up at the man, who wore a faint smile, had an oval-shaped face, combed back hair, and sported a long black velvet coat.

“And you are?”

“I was once Han Mingxiao of the Data Recording Unit, and I’ve been here for a long time, nearly a decade or so. Well, now I’m on leave here in the Documentation Department—this is my accumulated vacation of five years, totaling six whole months of idle wandering.”

“Ten years.” Zorro felt a subtle stir in his heart, then smiled: “However, coming to the Documentation Department for vacation, that’s really…”

The other man pulled a book from the shelf.

“Although the region you documented hasn’t been tagged as recorded, it probably won’t ever show up. Skip these few as well,” he said, casually sweeping his finger across a row of books, then handed the one in his other hand to Zorro. “Start reading from this document.”

Zorro took it and flipped through it; the document provided by the other man contained a large amount of architectural data within the geographic area listed.

“If I remember correctly, you’re Yang Zicang’s assistant, right?” Han Mingxiao continued.

“That’s correct.”

Han Mingxiao chuckled. “You might not know this, but your employer also entered Lost Illusion Company a while ago. But he doesn’t seem to be planning on coming to the Literature Department. So, I have a favor to ask of you—give this to him.”

Han Mingxiao took off a pendant hanging around his neck, which held a small black wooden burl.

Yang Zicang also entered Lost Illusion Company?

Zorro’s mind raced.

“What is this?” Zorro asked, looking at the man in front of him with hesitation. “Why don’t you just go see him yourself?”

“Because I’m studying something during this vacation, and I can’t leave here for at least six months. By then, he’ll probably have already resigned from the company.”

“Resigned?”

“Yeah, that was his plan from day one on the job.”

Zorro took the pendant and examined it for a moment. “I don’t know what this is. As his assistant, I can’t bring him an unknown object.”

“Quite cautious, aren’t you?”

Han Mingxiao smirked. “This is a Dream Synchronization Device—I have another one. Just hand it to him and tell him that.”

[Han Mingxiao wishes to gift me 100N of Virtual Zero Sequence.]

Zorro handed the pendant back to him and shook his head, saying:

“I’ll tell Yang Zicang about this when I see him. He can decide then whether to meet you or not. These sequences are hard to come by. You should save them for yourself, sir.”

“Very well.” The man with slicked-back hair straightened his back, let out a sigh, and placed the pendant back into his inner pocket. He then raised a finger, pointing into the distance with a slight smile. “After you tell him that, feel free to come and see me more often these six months. I’ll be in that room.”

Zorro glanced over. Behind those distant doors lay the gathering place for researchers. Though they didn’t reject ordinary employees, everyone tacitly avoided disturbing them.

“Thank you for your generosity, Mr. Han. Sorry I couldn’t help.”

“It’s better if he comes here in person anyway.” Han Mingxiao nodded and left.

Zorro watched him go. The silhouette walked among the towering, magnificent bookshelves, as if treading through the crevices of a lost world.

……

“If I don’t go to the archives, I won’t get the dark gold information. If I do go, I can’t resign anymore. Hoo~”

Yang Zicang, leaning back in his office swivel chair, let out a frustrated sigh of turbid air.

“This is nothing but a dead end.”

A man in his fifties with a square-shaped face opened his eyes from a neighboring workstation made of dark jujube wood. His eyes were slightly dazed for a moment before quickly regaining focus. He turned to look at Yang Zicang and happened to catch sight of this new young man lying back on his chair with a helpless expression on his face.

“Xiaocang.” He got up and walked over, glancing at the Luminous Tube on Yang Zicang’s desk, which was flickering irregularly and without pattern. “What’s the matter? Failed to capture the Dissonance Band again?”

“I’m such a failure.” After sitting up straight, Yang Zicang said sincerely to this man:

“Uncle Wei, how long does it usually take for you to successfully capture those Dissonance Bands amidst the chaotic torrents?”

The man, who exuded an inherent authority without deliberate effort, pondered for a moment and then glanced at another middle-aged man deeper inside the elegant office. This man was sitting relaxed on his workstation, his eyelids slightly closed and barely twitching.

“When Lao Xing and I first arrived, our mental power hadn’t even reached the Second Ring. I remember succeeding for the first time in capturing a Dissonance Scene Band usable for deployment in the ‘Cruxspace’ around the Second Ring, Second Stage. Hmm… we made it roughly nearly two months into the job.”

“Two months.”

That sounded three to four times longer than the time he had spent so far, but that was with mental power at the Second Ring, Second Stage.

And he was already at the Second Ring, Eighth Stage.

“Don’t lose heart.” The man patted Yang Zicang on the shoulder. “Your mental fortitude is tough. With your experience from the Complete Stamp Emblem world, your spiritual energy is also very strong. Think of it like a sports car full of powerful momentum—what you lack right now is simply the experience behind the wheel.”

“Thank you, Uncle Wei. Sigh, I need to train harder.”

As he spoke, Yang Zicang planned to continue. But the man beside him reached out and stopped Yang Zicang’s hand from touching the Luminous Tube.

“Blindly pushing yourself isn’t the answer. How about I take you to a place? Your spiritual rank is already qualified to try it out.”

“What place?”

“The Spiritual Realm Training Ground. If you’re lucky, you can imprint a spiritual energy circulation pattern suitable for beginners. That will give you much more stable control over your spiritual power.”