Doomsday Wonderland

Registering with Beacon-Wolf Signal was unexpectedly simple: after answering a few questions and selecting the posthuman category, Lin Sanjiu paid the fee and was set up on Beacon-Wolf Signal. There wasn't even a verification process to confirm if she really was a posthuman. She received a small white disc-shaped device, the terminal for sending and receiving messages.

She configured her missing person broadcast to repeat twice an hour for three consecutive days, then anxiously stepped back from the bulky communications terminal that resembled a gaming arcade machine.

The whole room felt like an arcade. There were no windows, and the dim lighting cast a bluish glow on faces illuminated by screens. Everyone wore headsets, eyes fixed on their screens. No one paid her any attention; as soon as she left, someone else took her place at the terminal.

Would the grand prize and Yu Yuan hear her broadcast?

Beacon-Wolf Signal was a new system with a relatively small user base. Even though most of its users were posthumans, there was no guarantee that Yu Yuan or the grand prize used it. What if they didn't even know Beacon-Wolf Signal existed?

What if fate's script was inescapable, even for Veda? Just like Marcie, the cat doctor, Qing Jiuliu, and Magus, every separation became an endless sentence. What would happen to the grand prize?

Lin Sanjiu pressed a hand against the wall, bent over, and took a few shaky breaths. By the time she suppressed the sharp wave of panic, her palm was damp with sweat.

1

It was ironic: once upon a time, she'd disliked leaving work because she didn't want to face her empty home. Now she lived in a world where she couldn't hold onto anyone. She couldn't keep others, nor herself. Wherever the waves carried her, she left pieces behind—pieces her friends carried, maybe never to return.

Even the rules of teleportation were now shaky under the impact of the Great Deluge. If there wasn't even a reliable way to meet again, what was the point of her endless struggle to survive in the doomsday world?

Maybe it was the lingering panic, or maybe she had a perfectly good reason, but as Lin Sanjiu passed by Eight-Heads De, she couldn't help but ask the only familiar face in the room for help.

"Would you do me a favor?"

Eight-Heads De jumped in surprise.

Lin Sanjiu had noticed earlier that he was trying not to draw attention, pretending not to recognize her. She'd played along and ignored him. Perhaps Eight-Heads De hadn't expected her to remember him after their brief encounter a few days ago.

"Oh, it's you! Nice to see you," Eight-Heads De said, awkwardly wiping his forehead. "Ah, these glasses are too dark. I can't see a thing..."

Even such a flimsy excuse, when spoken in his smooth, rich voice, sounded oddly convincing.

"What are you doing here?" Lin Sanjiu asked. He seemed to be observing people coming and going, but he didn't look like someone trying to hide while searching for someone. Otherwise, what use was a pair of sunglasses?

"Oh, just checking things out. It's a new system, after all!" Clearly avoiding the truth, Eight-Heads De changed the subject. "What do you need help with?"

"You're a broadcaster, so you must know a lot of people." Lin Sanjiu knew that dealing with him would cost money, so she took out a few freshly exchanged fog spheres. "I want you to spread two messages: one to hire a dismantling craftsman and the other offering a reward for finding someone. I hope you can bypass the major communications platforms and have your seven heads send the messages privately."

"My seven... you know about my other seven heads?" Eight-Heads De lowered his sunglasses slightly, eyes fixed on the fog spheres.

It was Kra who had told her.

When they'd first seen Eight-Heads De at the door, the boy had proudly explained, as if introducing a famous landmark, "You're lucky! See that burly guy? That's Eight-Heads De, the most famous broadcaster in Chimeric City. He's got tens of thousands of listeners; he's even in the top five in Cloudwalk Heights. Everyone loves his show; he's friendly and often uses his seven heads to help people pass messages..."

This didn't match Lin Sanjiu's impression of Eight-Heads De at all. After all, he was someone who'd broadcast fake messages just to delay a ship for a bit of money.

"What's this about seven heads?" Lin Sanjiu vaguely recalled the origin of his name. "Does he really have eight heads?"

"One on his neck," Kra bent a finger down, "and the other seven are part of his ability. They're not actual heads. It's like... hmm, he once compared them to ground stations? Anyway, through those seven heads, he can send and receive signals."

So, was that how he managed to make the pilot hear fake broadcasts on the ship? It seemed Eight-Heads De was genuinely famous in Chimeric City, given that even regular people knew about his ability.

Lin Sanjiu thanked Kra and handed him a few extra red crystals as a tip. Noticing that Kra had no intention of approaching Eight-Heads De, she realized it was different from how people treated celebrities before doomsday. Though Kra didn't know what Eight-Heads De was up to, he still respected his secrecy and left after bidding her goodbye.

Despite his apparent fame, Eight-Heads De only reluctantly tore his eyes away from her money.

"No problem, no problem," he said. "We've worked together once before, right? You know me, reliable to a fault. Who are you looking for?"

Finding a decomposition craftsman was easy; Eight-Heads De confidently promised to get one by the end of the day. "I know Chimeric City like the back of my hand!" As for locating the grand prize and Yu Yuan, that was a matter of luck. Passing along the message by word of mouth was unpredictable; no one could say when or how it might reach them.

But as Veda, their ability to absorb information and access channels should far exceed that of ordinary people, right?

"I'll give you a partial deposit first," Lin Sanjiu said, offering him the money. "Does this seem fair?"

Surprisingly, Eight-Heads De didn't take it. He lowered his sunglasses slightly, revealing a pair of big, double-lidded eyes. He studied Lin Sanjiu for a moment, then waved his hand, signaling her to put the money away.

"Your combat power is pretty high, isn't it?"

"Well..." Lin Sanjiu pondered for a moment. "I'd feel a bit embarrassed to brag about myself."

1

Eight-Heads De blinked, seemingly at a loss for how to respond to such honesty. "If I'm not mistaken, your level is top-tier in Cloudwalk Heights... Even in Chimeric City's governing group, the Noble Accord, I haven't seen a posthuman with your level of strength."

Perhaps thinking of the payment he refused, he added a bit regretfully, "And you've got money, too."

"So?" Lin Sanjiu prompted.

"To be honest, I've been trying to raise money to hire someone, but no matter how hard I try, I can't afford someone with your combat power," Eight-Heads De said cautiously. "You're avoiding the big system platforms to stay under the radar, right? I won't ask for details. If you agree to help me, I can send out your messages through the major systems under my name, without exposing you."

"No problem," Lin Sanjiu said immediately. "What do you need me to do? Fight for you? I'm good at that. When can you start sending the messages?"

"It's even safer than that! Come on, let's talk while we walk." Eight-Heads De's eyes lit up as he gestured for her to follow and turned to leave. "I have a place in Chimeric City; one of my seven heads is stationed there. You can watch me send the messages yourself to have peace of mind."

And so, Lin Sanjiu caught hold of another small boat in the current.

She let the boat carry her through Chimeric City's labyrinthine waterways, swept along by the endless flow of people, waves of laughter, the sound of wheels scraping the ground, and the calls of street vendors. Soon, she lost her sense of direction. Eight-Heads De seemed genuinely popular; posthumans and ordinary people alike greeted him with smiles and gifts. Thanks to his popularity, Lin Sanjiu received plenty of friendly looks as well. Eight-Heads De even handed her a piece of gum he'd just been given.

"A cheap little treat," he muttered, chewing on a piece. "Don't be shy."

Lin Sanjiu took the gum but didn't put it in her mouth. "Why does everyone like you so much?"

"I'm a celebrity," Eight-Heads De said with a sigh, his self-assessment lofty. "The burden of fame is no small thing."

Despite Chimeric City being built on artificial highlands, there were plenty of bridges—constructed not to cross rivers, but out of the chaotic, whimsical design of the city, making bridges necessary to connect many of the walls. Beneath these bridges, wild patches of homes sprouted like weeds. As Lin Sanjiu and Eight-Heads De waited with dozens of others for a drawbridge to lower, she overheard an old man telling a story to some children by the roadside.

She glanced over and saw a group of kids, both evolved and ordinary, sitting on the dirty ground listening to what seemed to be a love story.

Or maybe it was.

"The posthuman girl, heartbroken by a misunderstanding, immediately signed up to fight the duoluozhongs. She did it out of bravery, but also to avoid ever seeing the boy again..." The old man's voice was punctuated by the children's gasps. "But, tragically, she was killed by a duoluozhong, her entire head torn off in a single blow."

Not exactly a gentle story for kids.

"What happened next?" asked a little girl, around seven or eight, with bright, lively eyes. Lin Sanjiu wondered if Bohemia had ever sat like this, listening to stories about posthumans.

"The ordinary boy was grief-stricken, filled with regret. After the duoluozhong attack ended, he sat alone on a cliff, remembering the time they spent together."

The drawbridge creaked as it slowly lowered, the end settling onto their side of the road. Eight-Heads De glanced at the old man, hesitating.

"And then?" The little girl was impatient, adding her own thoughts, "It was the boy's fault, really. He shouldn't have messed with that sea octopus..."

Lin Sanjiu had expected a love triangle twist. Clearly, she was wrong.

"The boy, lost in sorrow, slipped and fell off the cliff. The next time the duoluozhongs climbed up to attack Chimeric City, people saw him, transformed into one of the duoluozhong the girl had once fought against, walking among them..."

The children screamed and laughed at the tragic ending.

"So, the lesson is: Don't sit on cliffs for no reason." The old man wrapped up the story just as the drawbridge lay flat. Lin Sanjiu, caught between disbelief and confusion, followed Eight-Heads De across.

"What kind of story was that?" she whispered. "Was it true?"

Eight-Heads De glanced back, and Lin Sanjiu abruptly fell silent. Even with his sunglasses sliding down his nose, they couldn't hide the waterlogged solemnity in his expression.

"I heard that story for the first time four weeks ago," he said softly. "In the past six weeks, Chimeric City has sprouted thirty-seven stories, news reports, and nearly a hundred rumors, none of which I'd ever heard before. I... don't like it."

1

As Lin Sanjiu stared at his back, a question she'd never considered before surfaced in her mind.

What kind of ability did Eight-Heads De possess that made Pete target him with the memory pocket dimension attack?

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