Chapter 106: The Fragmented Light Repeatedly Outlines the Shape of the Heart.

Chapter 106 Flecks of light repeatedly outlined the heart's shape.

The fine scales on Old Zhang's face bristled, quivering rapidly like a suffocating fish's gaping mouth. Mumbling deliriously, he repeated Yi Fengchu's question.

"My wish... was..."

His voice was barely audible, quivering and swaying in the wind like smoke drifting from the past, carrying untold pain and regret.

At some point, Old Zhang had collapsed weakly to his knees. The snakeskin scales lining the tunnel walls grew ever brighter and more polished, reflecting his form like a clear mirror.

He gazed vacantly at his own monstrous, neither man nor demon reflection, yet his eyes mirrored his younger self from over a decade ago—the man who had first arrived at the snow-capped mountain, full of determination.

Back then, Old Zhang had stayed at the mountain's base for two or three months, gathering sufficient intelligence before determinedly shouldering all his belongings and setting off alone into the snowy peaks.

With one hand gripping a trekking pole and the other holding a magnetometer, he watched the dial's movements religiously, gradually narrowing his search until he reached the foot of the fourth lateral peak.

At the time, Old Zhang had no idea that the depths of this peak housed countless winding, tubular tunnels, nor did he understand the true nature of this "mountain." Thus, he simply ascended without direction toward the summit.

He didn't follow any planned or developed hiking trails, instead venturing recklessly into the untamed wilderness where few had ever set foot.

Before even reaching halfway up the mountain, Old Zhang lost his way amid the endless snow and snow-blanketed forests. Finally, near a boulder, he lost his footing and plunged down the cliff.

His vision went black instantly, consciousness fading. His last thought before passing out was:

What were the survival odds after a fall in the wild? Even if he didn't be dashed to pieces, timely rescue was unlikely. He'd never make it out of these mountains alive.

To think he hadn't died from illness but might instead be buried beneath the snow.

What injustice! He didn't want to die—he wanted to live...

Yet, against all odds, when Old Zhang awoke again, he found himself with no injuries hindering his movement. Only his jacket showed some ragged tears, exposing patches of down lining.

He guessed his clothes had snagged on branches during the fall, breaking his fall and saving his life.

Even his backpack had landed right beside him, stuffed with essential supplies. The only thing shattered beyond repair was the magnetometer.

It was nothing less than divine mercy.

Thankfully dusting off the snow clinging to him, Old Zhang hesitated over whether to turn back. But as soon as he looked up, he spotted a pitch-black, light-devouring mouth of a cave.

—Right before him, not far away, was a hidden passage obscured by rocks on either side. The entrance was relatively narrow but still wide enough for a person to enter.

Old Zhang froze, then recalled Yi Fengchu once mentioning this was his "origin" and "the place of his first birth"...

Could it be that the boy with supernatural gifts had been born inside this very mountain?

In that moment, Old Zhang felt miraculously fortunate. Not only had the fall not killed him, it had apparently guided him to a true path straight into the mountain's core.

As if heaven itself had chosen him, setting him apart from the common herd, allowing him to step by step explore lands no human had ever tread!

To Old Zhang, "prescience" was sometimes the decisive, unparalleled advantage—just like those who keenly recognized the tides of their era and later amassed great wealth...

And in the realm of the "mystical," he was about to become the first to understand and set foot in it!

With his heart racing, Old Zhang pulled out a flashlight and cautiously entered the passage.

The cave's mouth was tight at first, scarcely wide enough for one person. Old Zhang had to brush aside encroaching foliage from above and around him while stooping to painstakingly grope his way deeper inside.

As he progressed, perhaps influenced by the cave's mysterious energy, Old Zhang began experiencing visions and phantom sounds, his perception of time growing increasingly distorted.

At times, he felt as though his feet were submerged in a gelid pool—first the water merely lapped at his ankles, but it steadily rose higher and higher, gathering into a lake that soon engulfed him completely...

Old Zhang saw himself walking through this lake. Through the clear water, he faintly glimpsed an inconceivably vast serpent swimming toward him from afar.

Its monstrous bulk sank into the water, effortlessly occupying the entire vast lake. Its heavy belly scraped through the lakebed's muck, stirring up silt, crushing tiny plants and smooth pebbles to dust until its shed skin split like a coat and slid away.

Before such an enormous being, Old Zhang held his breath, frozen in place.

Only when the serpent and lake's illusion faded did he summon the will to press onward.

At other times, Old Zhang saw shadows of myriad serpents slithering everywhere, their forked tongues dancing as they darted about the cave.

But when he frantically raised his flashlight, he found only shadows cast by the tunnel walls' lush vines.

Human rationality proved ever fragile in the mystical world—in an instant, like a candle guttering in the wind, rationality burned away, leaving only wisps of obsession curling like smoke.

Old Zhang pressed onward relentlessly. Time might have stretched long or remained frozen at his entry point—his befuddled mind seemed to flash through every moment of the mountain's history since its formation...

A shrill voice shrieked warnings in his mind:

'No further! Deeper lies only madness!'

'This is beyond my exploration!'

Yet another voice whispered—his own familiar tone:

'After coming this far, would you really turn back?'

'Go on. I'll be the one to grasp the opportunity first... I'll learn, analyze, wield, even tame these inconceivable powers!'

'Everything I desire lies deeper inside!'

Fear, longing, madness, and confusion swirled together until they fermented into something even Old Zhang couldn't define.

He could no longer distinguish dream from reality, charging headlong into the darkness ahead.

Cackling madly, Old Zhang became convinced he'd reached truths unimaginable and unattainable to the ordinary masses.

The deeper he went, the icier the air filling his lungs became. The winding tunnel stretched like an endless tomb, gradually sapping his strength.

Eventually, Old Zhang stopped deep in the passage. The pervasive cold numbed his limbs, so he used supplies from his pack to light a fire, hoping to warm himself.

Sitting before the flickering flames, he began pondering: What wish would he make to this sacred mountain?

Halt the tumor's progression?

That would mean living with an abnormality in his brain... Why not wish for complete healing instead?

But even if cured, his body was no longer young. What if other illnesses plagued him in a few years?

Should he wish for longevity then?

Yet "longevity" was vague—how would the mountain interpret it? A few extra healthy years by human standards? Or by the mountain's own vast, timeless perspective?

Having journeyed so far, if his wish only granted him one, two, or three more years than others... how could that possibly satisfy him?

At this thought, the voice in his mind spoke again, its words dripping with temptation, echoing endlessly:

'Unlike those blindly wishing at the mountain's foot, I've come so much farther. I'm closer to the extraordinary than anyone...'

'I am different... yes, I am extraordinary.'

'Therefore, I deserve to taste a sweeter, grander fruit!'

The flickering firelight cast shifting shadows on Old Zhang's face, mirroring his wavering thoughts.

Fragments of illusion—or perhaps reality—surged once more in his mind. He thought of the colossal serpent, vast as something otherworldly, and of the ancient, unchanging mountains...

Compared to these beings, the fleeting crowds at the foot of the mountain seemed insignificant. No matter what achievements they attained in life, they would soon turn to dust, vanishing without a trace.

Old Zhang refused such a fate.

After witnessing power that transcended nature, his mindset had subtly shifted. He could no longer be content with returning to the mundane world, to ordinary life.

The hunger grew louder, screaming in his chest—

He wanted to rise above the world.

He wanted to command supernatural power.

He wanted to escape the short, fragile lifespan of human life... to become eternal, like the mountains themselves.

"Whoosh—"

Suddenly, a gust of wind rushed through the tunnel, extinguishing the flickering flames in an instant.

Plunged into pitch black, Old Zhang frantically groped near his backpack, searching for the flashlight.

Yet, his hand touched something else first—a cold, calloused hand.

His stomach dropped. How could there be another person here?

Suppressing a scream, he snatched the flashlight and turned it on with trembling hands, only to illuminate a face identical to his own.

The dark circles under the eyes, the sallow skin, the unshaven stubble... down to the clothes they wore, there was no difference.

The only distinction was the time on their watches.

One showed 13:21, the other 13:22.

A minute later, another identical figure emerged from the darkness, his watch displaying 13:23.

The three locked eyes wordlessly.

From that moment on, Old Zhang slowly realized: his wish might have truly been granted... in the most uncanny way possible.

Returning to the present, the creature—now a twisted creature—kneeled in the cavern, its body shuddering uncontrollably.

It had no eyes, no tears to shed, but the hitching sobs coming from its mouth made it clear to Yi Fengchu that it was weeping.

Old Zhang couldn't accept this reality.

It had always believed that its transformation was the cruel trick of some evil god.

Only by blaming external forces could it momentarily ease the torment of regret, barely enduring this lonely, animal-like life of blood and raw flesh.

How could it admit the truth?

How could it admit that it had pushed itself into the abyss?

Utterly shattered, Old Zhang completely broke down. It didn’t even spare a thought for Zhang Ming beside it, abandoning its plan to use his identity and body to escape. Instead, it bolted from the cave in panic, in a frenzy of madness and confusion.

Among the scales, hundreds of Yi Fengchu's copies watched it leave, making no move to stop it.

Behind Old Zhang, Yi Fengchu sighed softly. "...Actually, the serpent's molt fulfilled four of your wishes."

The first wish was made the moment he fell from the cliff—he didn’t want to die.

If only, after waking from the fall, he had gone back down the mountain none the wiser, instead of relentlessly pursuing what was never his to claim...

But it was far too late now.

Yi Fengchu turned to Zhang Ming, finding him unconscious once more, lying limp on the ground. Taking pity, he sent a handful of small snakes to carry Zhang Ming out of the serpent's molt.

Along the way, Zhang Ming came to for a second, only to see the sea of slithering snakes beneath him and promptly pass right back out in terror.

Once all outsiders had left, the ancient "snow mountain" rapidly crumbled and shrank before the players' eyes, transforming in Yi Fengchu's hands into a silvery, see-through heart.

About the size of a fist, the heart had a semi-transparent texture, its outermost layer glowing faintly. Looking closer, one could see six progressively smaller layers within—like a tiny core wrapped in layers of silver gauze, faint light outlining the contours of the heart again and again.

Yi Fengchu weighed the see-through heart in his palm, musing aloud to his phone, "My intuition tells me each layer—each serpent's molt—represents a fragment of my past."

"If I absorb them all, will I remember everything?"

"Correct," the phone replied, uncharacteristically helpful. "Though, if you'd prefer to enjoy your life as it is, you could always store them with me, display them in a cabinet."

"...No, I'll keep them myself."

It wasn’t that Yi Fengchu distrusted the phone. Rather, after witnessing Old Zhang's fate, he’d developed something like PTSD. He feared that if the serpent's molt wasn’t on his person, it might unconsciously radiate energy again, messing with the heads of ordinary people and granting wishes that should never be fulfilled.

After some thought, Yi Fengchu lowered his head, looking himself over as he figured out where to stash the serpent's molt.

His skin turned see-through as he stared, showing the ribs, spine, and veins underneath...

After searching anxiously, his eyes landed on the spot three inches below his ribs—where a heartbeat should have been.

"Huh?" He frowned. "Is there something wrong with my heart? Sometimes it looks like a heart, other times like a knot of snakes."

The phone: "How should I know? Ask the version of you who came up with this body."

Hmm... a heart in quantum flux.

Yi Fengchu mused that it seemed strangely appropriate for the serpent's molt in his hand, now shaped like a heart.

So the silvery, see-through heart slid between his ribs, coming to rest securely within his chest.

Witnessing this, the phone couldn’t resist a dad joke: "Talk about taking something to heart."

Yi Fengchu: "..." The joke flew over his head.