Chapter 19: The Plate and the Apostle

Chapter 19: Dinner Plates and the Apostle

Above the dark and turbulent sea, the silver serpent was surrounded by a multitude of snakes, countless golden eyes opening beneath its scales as it faced the vast sea mist.

To be more precise, it was the serpents advancing inch by inch with flicking tongues, while the mist seemed to recoil in fear, scattering and retreating from Yi Fengchu's path.

From a distance, the mist appeared as if cleaved by a towering blade, creating a deep rift—like Moses parting the sea.

Yet, even though the mist could not harm Yi Fengchu in the slightest, He still found Himself lost on the boundless ocean, adrift in the haunting siren songs, unable to locate His "orientation."

Just as the silver serpent lay bewildered upon the sea's surface, fragments of prayer cut through the barriers of space and fog, intermittently echoing in His mind.

"Mr. Narrator... King of the Silver White Snakes..."

With the emergence of the prayer, Yi Fengchu sensed a sudden strengthening of His connection to a certain anchor point.

His massive, sun-sized snake eyes gazed downward, where in the inky blackness of the deep sea, a glimmer of light suddenly ignited. The radiance grew ever brighter, like a lighthouse illuminating the thick mist, guiding His way.

The siren songs drifting through the sky grew mournful and resentful, as if sensing an irreversible decline, before gradually fading into muffled sobs and vanishing entirely.

Countless golden eyes opened in unison as Yi Fengchu fixed His contemplative gaze upon the direction of the "lighthouse," listening as the prayer continued:

—"We humbly welcome Your descent!"

Caught in a dreamlike trance, Yi Fengchu did not understand the occult principles or purpose of this summoning—or rather, this "divine descent ritual." He simply acted on instinct and decided to answer His follower.

He consented,

Thus He descended.

In an instant, the space within the dream collapsed and folded, coalescing before the serpent into a door formed of blood.

Within the door, flowing crimson like spilled oil paint replaced the waves and storms of the sea, revealing the interior of an aquarium.

Through this blood-red portal, Yi Fengchu could see a recognizable figure kneeling in the darkness, surrounded by pale arms reaching for her from all directions. Before her, accepting her obeisance, was a small silver snake coiled atop lines of bloody script.

This was Luo Shengle's space.

Through the medium of blood and prayer, an unknown and mighty force descended upon the ritual site, overlapping that space onto Yi Fengchu's path forward.

Without hesitation, Yi Fengchu propelled His mountainous body forward, entering the distorted spatial gateway—descending before the follower who had called for Him.

Luo Shengle had prepared for this. She maintained her deep bow, eyes tightly shut and buried beneath her curled form, dulling all her senses to the lowest possible degree.

Do not look. Do not listen. Do not think...

Luo Shengle clenched her teeth, relentlessly warning herself in her heart.

Yet even so, she could still feel a heavy, terrifying power descending around her, the pressure so tangible that everything emitted faint, protesting creaks.

"Crack, crack..."

Luo Shengle felt as though she could hear her own spine—no, every bone in her body—letting out brittle sounds, like the agonized moans of the terminally ill.

Simultaneously, the mental shock and influence caused warm liquid to slowly seep from her eyes, ears, nose, and mouth.

This was not physical harm but rather her body's instinctive resistance and detoxification against spiritual corruption. There was no pain, so Luo Shengle only realized she was bleeding when the iron taste of blood reached her tongue.

Yet she quickly understood that this was already the result of Mr. Narrator extending "mercy" to His follower, deliberately restraining His power.

Luo Shengle dared not lift her head, but she could hear the movements of the pale waterlogged corpses around her.

In the instant of the Narrator's descent, inhuman shrieks erupted from the throats of these seawater-rotted corpses, as if they had experienced something unspeakably horrifying and painful.

But the screams lasted only a second before being abruptly choked off, replaced by the sounds of bodies writhing on the ground, scales scraping against the floor, and the hissing of flickering tongues.

Luo Shengle froze momentarily before realizing—the Narrator had transformed the drowned corpses into another form... one closer to His kin, a serpentine form.

Now, these corpses were likely undergoing the prolonged process of shedding their skin, forced to endure the agony of rebirth. Only by shedding their slimy fishskin and growing neat, beautiful serpent scales could they attain true "new life."

To become... beings closer to the King of Snakes.

As if awakened by these tremendous disturbances, the entire aquarium began to violently tremble.

Paint peeled from the walls in cascades, the ceiling chandelier crashed to the ground with a clang, and even the sturdiest load-bearing pillars and walls began to collapse.

Bricks crumbled and toppled, gradually revealing what had been hidden within the aquarium walls for decades—

A pale skeleton.

No wonder the navigator had once mistaken it, for it truly resembled the bones of a whale or similar creature, with the fluid lines characteristic of fish. The elegant curves of the white bones traced the shape of a winding wave, exuding a smooth elegance.

Had this been an ordinary creature, its skeleton would have long since perished, its remains decayed, its soul returned to the cold embrace of death.

But the Tidal Prince was a divine being, one who carried the bloodline of a True God.

For Their kind, the boundary between life and death was not so distinct, and so-called "death" was an exceptionally prolonged process.

Just as stars in the universe continue to radiate energy for millennia after their light extinguishes,

After this Tidal Prince's death, His consciousness still lingered between the pillar-like ribs, His heart still beating slowly, drawing breaths as long and steady as sea winds.

In the distant past, the Tidal Prince's corpse had silently sunk beneath the waves, enduring the ceaseless erosion of the tides.

Gradually, His body began to rot, to disintegrate—yet He still breathed, still thought, still waited with clear mind for His mother's return.

He should have remained at the ocean's depths, persisting through countless cycles of hope and despair, until the day a human navigator chanced upon one of His bones and hauled it ashore.

On land, the Tidal Prince witnessed the very people who should have been ruled by His mother imprisoned in tanks, stripped of freedom and nature, reduced to exhibits for human amusement...

And so His rage knew no bounds. The disappointment and suffering accumulated over His long vigil finally found an outlet, pouring forth:

—Had these humans' sacrilegious acts disappointed His mother, causing Her long absence?

—Yes, that must be it... Mother would never abandon Them, so the fault must lie elsewhere.

—Then, as Her closest child, He must punish them, hoping one day to earn Her forgiveness through this.

From then on, the curse's shadow hung over the aquarium, spreading among the people on land.

By day, crowds milled about inside the hollow of the Tidal Prince's bones, unaware that as they toured the aquarium, an invisible gaze followed their every move, carefully choosing sacrifices from among the visitors and players—offerings both for Himself and as tribute to please the Mother of the Tides.

Yi Fengchu needed only a glance at the skeletal remains within the wall to instantly know the Tidal Prince's life and fate, as if reading a book. But He cared little for such things.

The only thing that concerned Him was...

"You look like you've been dead for a while, and none too meaty." Yi Fengchu flicked His tongue, looking over the Tidal Prince before sighing regretfully.

The serpents around Him hissed in excitement. Even Yi Fengchu Himself did not realize that the language He now spoke matched no human language—it was something infinitely older, purer...

The Serpents' "Language."

With a faint sigh, Yi Fengchu mustered his energy, consoling himself, "But it's fine, it'll do to satisfy my hunger."

The moment he spoke, the serpents slithered out from beneath the massive serpent's body, winding across the ground like streaks of silver lightning in a sudden downpour, gleaming ominously.

Countless pairs of cold golden eyes lit up in the darkness, slowly closing in and encircling the skeletal remains hidden within the aquarium, their gazes burning with ravenous anticipation.

None of the serpents dared to strike first. They seemed to hold back with unnatural restraint, elegantly flicking their forked tongues, controlling their hunger with eerie precision—like gentlemen seated at a dining table, primly adjusting their silverware.

Faced with the prospect of becoming a meal, the Tidal Prince went still for a heartbeat before erupting in a piercing shriek: "Mother—Mother, Mother, Mother!"

The Tidal Prince's voice sounded eerily like the legendary sirens—hauntingly melodic. Even this desperate, shrill cry was as melodious as the high notes of a sonata.

Would you look at that, such a delightful meal—it even sings and plays music on its own.

Yi Fengchu thought to himself, his appetite sharpening to a razor's edge.

Influenced by his delight, the serpents became visibly agitated, their hisses rising and falling in an unending chorus.

The Tidal Prince trembled violently at the sound, its snow-white bones shaking so fiercely that the very earth quaked.

Of all those present, Luo Shengle, kneeling on the ground, felt it the strongest. Pressing her palm to the floor, she gasped, whispering in shock, "There's something... writhing beneath the ground..."

It was as if enormous earthworms were churning beneath the soil. Moments later, several thick, eye-covered tendrils burst forth, hurling dirt and debris like a sudden downpour, splattering Luo Shengle and the drowned corpses around her.

The Tidal Prince violently wrenched itself free from the earth's grasp, yanking up its still-unrotted tendrils that had been rooted deep underground, raising them high before lashing out at the sky!

Though it was no match against the colossal serpent, it had one unbeatable edge—

This was its dream!

It couldn't repel Yi Fengchu, nor could it escape by conventional means, but it could wake itself from this "nightmare"...

The tendrils stretched endlessly toward the sky, spearing through the clouds before striking the dark firmament like a whip against a glass bead—shattering it like glass!

The sky cracked open.

Like a spider's web, the fractures rapidly spread until they covered the entire sky, allowing beams of light from the material world to seep through the gaps.

The entire dreamscape resembled a crushed crystal ball—shattered, crumbling at the edges.

Luo Shengle yelped in surprise. Through her blood-soaked eyes, she watched as everything rapidly twisted and crumbled, her vision growing increasingly blurred...

Just like the last time she was jolted awake from a dream, a tidal wave of dizziness crashed over her mind, sending her sprawling onto the ground.

Though she clung desperately to the earth, Luo Shengle felt as though she had been flung into the air, tumbling head over heels. Her heart pounded under immense pressure, beating so fast she could barely breathe.

Soon, from the distant sky to the walls and ground right before her—

Everything in sight was webbed with fractures.

Luo Shengle reached out, clawing at the wall to steady herself, her fingers carving deep grooves into its surface. Yet, she was inexorably pulled into one of the fissures, spat out of the dream.

The Tidal Prince let out a low, mournful cry, seemingly drunk on relief, eager to escape the predator's gaze.

Through the rapidly crumbling dream, Yi Fengchu saw its relief and said with dark amusement, "Good, now that the bystanders have left the table, I can finally dine undisturbed."

He had always adhered to human etiquette—for instance, cleaning the table before dining.

"...?"

The raised tendrils froze mid-air as the Tidal Prince silently conveyed its confusion.

Before it, the dream had clearly shattered completely, dissolving into countless floating fragments like the ashes of a spent fire.

Its dream had broken. It should have ended...

Yet, it hadn't awakened.

At this moment, the Tidal Prince—who had never known fear under the Mother of the Tides' protection—was consumed by nameless dread and despair. An icy paralysis spread from the tips of its tendrils, threatening to freeze its entire skeletal form.

The Tidal Prince let out a desperate scream, but the colossal serpent before it had already unfurled its massive length, coiling around the divine being in a possessive embrace.

This once-mighty ruler of the seas—a divine being of unimaginable size to mortals—now appeared laughably tiny and frail before the fully manifested serpent.

Like a delicate, adorable little dessert placed upon a serving platter...

The serpents hissed approvingly.

Trapped within the encircling coils, the Tidal Prince had no time to utter further cries before its bones and tendrils were engulfed in silver scales. The massive serpent lowered its head, swallowing its prey's struggles and wails whole.

This was how it should be.

As he feasted contentedly, Yi Fengchu nodded in satisfaction. A good ingredient shouldn't jump ship on its own...

The silvery scales completely engulfed the Tidal Prince. The serpents gorged on this prize, their tails curling upward in delight.

By the time the feast neared its end, the silvery tide receded, leaving Yi Fengchu staring in puzzlement at the sole remaining "remnant."

It was a treasure the Tidal Prince had fiercely guarded with its tendrils—a single eye, pulsing with golden light, its pupil a vertical black slit unlike any human's.

Around the eye orbited faint golden rings, resembling planetary rings, rotating with precise regularity.

Such a familiar eye...

His foggy dream-mind slow, Yi Fengchu pondered seriously. He felt like he had seen this exact eye not long ago.

After a moment's thought, he lowered his head, locking gazes with one of the golden eyes peering out from beneath his scales—and suddenly understood.

Wasn't this his own eye?

How had it ended up in the hands of that little dessert?

Though he had many eyes across his form, they didn't just randomly fall out as he walked...

Instinct told Yi Fengchu that this eye was important—far more so than any of the others beneath his scales.

And so, with this question in mind, the colossal serpent lowered its head, gently picking up the stray eye in its jaws before slowly retracing its path back the way it came.

......

In the dungeon, Luo Shengle's eyes snapped open as she was ripped from the dream.

Catching her breath, she muttered to herself, "Well... this isn't entirely bad. At least I don't have to worry about getting caught in the crossfire between two superiors..."

Recalling the scenes from the dream, she reconsidered, "No, this wasn't so much a battle as it was Mr. Narrator's one-sided hunt."

Though the events had taken place in a dream, it was the dream of a divine being—one that could, to some extent, influence reality. As a result, Luo Shengle's clothes were drenched in cold sweat, and a trail of crimson had dried beneath her lashes, casting a faint red haze over her vision.

Her hands and feet icy and weak, Luo Shengle had to lie motionless on the bed corpse-like for a moment, her unfocused gaze fixed on the ceiling.

Before long, the ceiling she was staring at suddenly seemed to be bitten by an invisible giant mouth, disappearing in a chunk.

...Was this the aftermath of Mr. Narrator devouring his prey?

Luo Shengle stared in shock, then, realizing something, immediately forced her limp limbs to move and dragged herself out of bed.

Hastily slinging on her backpack, Luo Shengle woke Lin Ye from his unnatural sleep and bolted out the door before he opened his eyes.

As she hurried down the hallway, Luo Shengle shouted, "Wake up, everyone! Fire! Escape outside!"

She wasn’t sure if those affected by the mysterious force could fully recover, but she believed most employees didn’t deserve death—especially unfortunate newcomers like Lin Ye, who had only arrived a few days ago...

The aquarium staff dormitory descended into chaos, filled with the sounds of hurried footsteps, slippers scraping against the floor, and doors being flung open.

"What’s happening?"

"Someone said there’s a fire?"

"Oh god! Why is the ceiling disappearing—watch out for falling debris!"

Ignoring the panicked cries behind her, Luo Shengle pushed open the aquarium’s main door without hesitation and sprinted outside.

The moment she stepped through the door, the Playground System appeared. The semi-transparent, high-tech interface turned an abnormal red, with several large exclamation marks flashing:

"WARNING! WARNING! COPY DATA ERROR, REANALYZING..."

"ANALYSIS COMPLETE. INSTANCE HAS SUFFERED IRREVERSIBLE DESTRUCTION. MISSION ANOMALY DETECTED!"

What did this mean? Would the system invalidate her mission because of Mr. Narrator’s interference?

Luo Shengle’s expression froze, her heart pounding.

"MISSION EVALUATION IN PROGRESS..."

"ACCORDING TO THE PLAYGROUND’S FIRST PRINCIPLE, THE GODS' WILL IS SUPREME."

"THUS, MISSION IS DEEMED SUCCESSFUL. THIS INSTANCE IS PERMANENTLY SEALED."

"The gods' will is supreme..." So, in the system’s judgment, Mr. Narrator was recognized as a True God?

The being she had been communicating with all along was truly a deity with a complete domain...

Her awe and gratitude grew in Luo Shengle’s heart. She didn’t know why this mysterious god had helped her, but she felt His motives no longer mattered—these favors would stay with her for life.

She had no idea how to repay Him, even in the smallest way... Did Mr. Narrator even need followers?

But a mere Level 3 Ability user like her was probably insignificant to Him.

Luo Shengle thought with shame.

The mission panel stuttered briefly before the system’s cold voice announced:

"CONGRATULATIONS ON CLEARING B- RANK INSTANCE 'WHALEBONE AQUARIUM.' CALCULATING EVALUATION..."

"EXPLORATION: 90%

MISSION 1: SURVIVE IN THE AQUARIUM FOR THREE DAYS. (COMPLETED)

MISSION 2 (SIDE): SILENCE THE TIDAL PRINCE’S WAILS AND LIFT THE AQUARIUM’S CURSE. (COMPLETED)"

"EVALUATION: YOUR PERSONAL STRENGTH IS SOMEWHAT LACKING, BUT YOUR ABILITY TO RIDE COATTAILS MAKES UP FOR IT. **PRAISE THE GREAT LORD OF FATE!**"

"YOU HAVE EARNED 1,000 POINTS. ADDITIONAL REWARD: SPECIAL AURA 'GAZE OF FATE.' EFFECTS UNKNOWN, CANNOT BE UNBOUND. MAY IT LAST UNTIL HE NO LONGER WATCHES OVER YOU. GOOD LUCK."

"FINALLY, CONGRATULATIONS ON RETURNING TO YOUR WORLD."

As the voice faded, Luo Shengle was pulled through a doorway. When she regained her senses, she was back in her apartment.

"Phew... That was close. Thankfully, with Mr. Narrator’s favor, I made it back safely."

Letting out a sigh of relief, she felt a dull ache spread through her muscles.

Due to the differing time flow, it was nearly noon in the real world. Luo Shengle set down her backpack, wiped the dried blood from her face, and trudged wearily toward the bathroom, thinking she could finally rest properly.

Meanwhile, in the apartment across from hers, Yi Fengchu had just woken up, looking unusually energetic and radiant.

His phone asked, "Sleep well?"

"Ate well."

The lingering seaweed sweetness still on his tongue, Yi Fengchu answered instinctively before explaining weakly, "Ahem—I mean, slept well."

His phone: "..."

If it were human, it might have sighed in exasperation. But alas, it wasn’t, so silence was its only response.

After his usual morning routine, Yi Fengchu intended to check his social media notifications but noticed a small display case had appeared in the bottom-right corner of his home screen—like a static screen pet.

The case was made of transparent glass, its top adorned with LED string lights that cast a warm, starlit glow against the pure black wallpaper, making it stand out vividly.

But the most eye-catching feature was the sole "display" inside—a golden snake eye, silently floating behind the glass, spinning uniformly along with its surrounding halo.

"Huh? What’s this?"

Yi Fengchu scratched his head, trying to recall last night’s dream. "All I remember is having a good feast... the rest is blurry."

"You sleepwalked and brought it back," his phone said, its mechanical tone strangely approving. "Finally, you brought something useful home."

After this rare praise, it explained, "Consider it... your new eye. Use it to see the world anew."

"Making it sound like I was blind before..."

Yi Fengchu muttered under his breath before walking to the window and drawing back the curtains.

As noon sunlight poured in, his expression shifted to astonishment. He finally understood what his phone meant by a "new world":

From his high vantage point, every passerby below was entwined with silver threads—wrapped around their wrists, elbows, necks, ankles... like thin snakes or prisoner's chains.

They all moved like puppets on strings, performing on a stage, whether hopeful or weary, all guided toward fixed destinations by an unseen force.

As they walked, these threads overlapped and separated, weaving into an intricate, dense, tangled web, making one feel dizzy.

"This is..."

Yi Fengchu stood transfixed, the sun searing his dark pupils until they stung, yet he couldn’t look away. His lips parted slightly, murmuring words so soft they nearly dissolved into the air.

In a daze, he understood that to his phone, he truly had been blind before—or rather, in this new vision, all of humanity walked blindfolded and bound, groping blindly into the unknown mists.

The device's voice remained calm, but Yi Fengchu keenly detected a hint of pride in it: "These are the threads of Fate."

"They are the ropes that guide all beings, the venomous snakes strangling mortals—something no one can perceive or resist."

"Can't perceive?" Yi Fengchu murmured, repeating the words. "But I can see these... 'threads of Fate' directly?"

The device affirmed, "Precisely why we're special."

"So this is one of the reasons you chose me? It only makes me more curious."

Though he said so, Yi Fengchu's emotions only flickered briefly before settling back into calm.

When faced with the mysterious world where forbidden knowledge and danger intertwine, he had always been adept at curbing his hunger for understanding.

Glancing past the compact showcase in the bottom-right corner, Yi Fengchu began inspecting the device's apps from the top, searching for anomalies beyond the display case.

Though the device wasn’t a technological product that human civilization could normally create, it could simulate the functions of an ordinary smartphone—internet access, calls, photography, and more. Any mainstream application could be downloaded automatically as long as Yi Fengchu requested it.

Fortunately, Yi Fengchu didn’t use many apps, mostly just those necessary for daily life and social interactions, which made his current inspection much simpler.

Soon, he spotted an unfamiliar app icon among the list—a small silver snake twisted into an infinity symbol, its head and tail connected. The app was named "Followers Review."

Wait, why does this name sound like some food review platform...

After a brief silence, Yi Fengchu took a deep breath and cautiously tapped on it.

The app’s design was minimalist. The main page featured a deep starscape backdrop, with the small ouroboros emblem at the center. The bottom taskbar had only three buttons: "Follower Recruitment," "Deities Review," and "My Followers."

Yi Fengchu’s finger paused slightly on the screen. He recalled some divine followers he had seen in the Gods' Playground—most of them transcended human comprehension and aesthetic standards. Compared to those monstrous beings, even the screaming fish from his dream, flavored with seaweed and sesame, seemed downright aesthetically pleasing...

Because of that, he could hardly imagine what kind of eldritch beings might appear in "Follower Recruitment," let alone the inherent dangers of those monsters.

After much hesitation, Yi Fengchu decided not to tap into that section for now, fearing it might scar his eyes.

"Actually, even if you wanted to open it, you couldn’t. The function isn’t available yet," the device couldn’t help but mock.

"You could’ve said that earlier instead of making me waste time hesitating," Yi Fengchu retorted irritably. "I’m guessing I can’t see the deities’ reviews either?"

From a power perspective, the entities involved in these two functions were still a bit too advanced for him.

Sure enough, the device replied, "Correct. You don’t have the clearance to share bandwidth with deities yet. Go play somewhere else for now."

"..." Don’t get angry, don’t get angry. If I ruin my health over this, wouldn’t that just be letting this sarcastic device win?

After silently calming himself down, Yi Fengchu lifted the device and then set it back down, ultimately resisting the urge to throw his constant companion across the room. Instead, he tapped on the last function: "My Followers."

Instantly, a seemingly infinite roster of names appeared on the screen, each accompanied by a portrait. Three of them stood out to Yi Fengchu as particularly familiar:

Luo Shengle (Shallow Faith), Meng Siyou (Faithless), Wen Sheng (Shallow Faith)...

There were many more names below, but Yi Fengchu’s memories of them had long grown hazy. A quick glance told him they were likely players he had interacted with in the Playground before.

Yi Fengchu noticed that the names marked as "Faithless" were grayed out—tapping their photos yielded no response.

Only the "Shallow Faith" followers were displayed in verdant hue. Clicking their photos displayed more detailed personal information and general status.

Even among the believers, the shades of green varied. Yi Fengchu guessed the color differences might reflect the degree of faith—for example, Luo Shengle probably had deeper devotion in the "Narrator" than Wen Sheng.

"Never thought that casually helping these people would actually earn me a bit of faith... though not much."

As Yi Fengchu idly scrolled down, a conspicuously anomalous golden name suddenly caught his eye, making him pause.

"Bryce Feibod?"

Reading the name aloud, Yi Fengchu raised an intrigued eyebrow. "The surname means 'fictional'—is this really not a pseudonym?"

What was even more noteworthy was the annotation after Bryce’s name: Apostle.

In the mystical world, an Apostle referred to a messenger who listened to divine revelations and carried out divine will. Most of them were most favored acolytes of deities, tasked with wandering between the realms of gods and the lands of mortals, serving as vessels of celestial will between the gods and their believers.

Because of this, Apostles were revered by Ability-wielders as the "Mouthpieces of the Divine"—a status far above ordinary followers, cult leaders, or even religious popes. They stood closest to the divine throne.

Yi Fengchu looked at the photo next to Bryce’s name. A golden-maned, crimson-eyed young man smiled gently at the screen.

Aside from his unusually crimson eyes, Bryce’s appearance was utterly unremarkable—every feature was arranged in the most ordinary way, his face so plain it was instantly forgettable.

As Yi Fengchu’s gaze moved away from the photo, he realized his impression of Bryce was already fading. Memories of his appearance slipped away like shifting riverbank silt, swiftly washed away by the current.

After a while, Yi Fengchu could barely recall that Bryce was a foreigner.

"Is this one of the traits of his Ability...?"

With keen interest, Yi Fengchu tapped into Bryce’s personal page. On the left side of the screen, a true-scale holographic rendering appeared—a miniaturized version of the golden-haired man, who bowed with a smile.

The scaled-down Bryce held a burnished lyre and wore a threadbare ashen mantle, its frayed hem nearly worn into strips of cloth that reached his ankles.

As Bryce bowed, these "cloth strips" swayed and stretched unnaturally. Upon closer inspection, Yi Fengchu realized—these weren’t strips of fabric at all.

They were thin, soft tentacles—extensions of Bryce’s essential nature!

This confirmed Yi Fengchu's suspicion: this Apostle Bryce was definitely not a normal person—and most likely not even human.

To the right of the model, Bryce’s personal information appeared:

Name: Bryce Feibod

Gender: Formerly male

Age: ????

Occupation: Minstrel, Apostle of Fate

Ability: Remnants of Bygone Days (Eighth-Rank)

Domain: Fate, Time

Special Status: No self-awareness; Available for summoning.

An Eighth-Rank Ability...

Even for someone as experienced as Yi Fengchu, seeing this rank drew an involuntary twitch.

Through the device, he had once accidentally contacted the leader of a secret order—a true divine follower and servant who had navigated myriad realms and dungeons, leading believers in carrying out divine will.

Yet even such a figure, seen as a preeminent figure in the profane world, had only reached Rank 8 in Ability.

He found himself speculating what kind of power Bryce possessed...

Pushing aside his musings, Yi Fengchu noticed the final entry of the special status and asked the device, "What does 'Available for summoning' mean? Can I summon him in reality, like how Senior Luo summoned me in the oneiric realm?"

["No, your understanding of the word 'manifestation' is incorrect," ] the phone replied slowly, ["This doesn't mean summoning him, but rather allowing you to descend—"]

"Just as many non-human entities select suitable vessels to descend into the world through devout followers when necessary, I can allow you to descend into his body."

Processing the phone's words, Yi Fengchu laughed, finding the idea ridiculous: "So you're saying that my Apostle needs to be acted out by me?"

Moreover, this manifestation method sounded downright creepy...

Had Bryce truly existed? What state was he in now? Temporarily unconscious or in permanent stasis?

Could it be that the phone had turned Bryce into an empty shell? That would indeed be chilling...

Countless questions swirled in Yi Fengchu's mind when he heard the phone respond: "...You could think of it that way."

The phone seemed to sigh, air escaping through a row of vents, ["After all, our Mr. Narrator is still a one-man operation still figuring out the ropes."]

Yi Fengchu fell silent for a moment, then tried to console himself: "Well, at least I’ve gained a powerful alternate vessel in reality. It might come in handy in dangerous situations... Looking at it that way, it’s not so bad..."

Previously, the phone’s ability to construct virtual bodies was severely limited. It couldn’t create a believable human persona out of thin air—only simulate deceased individuals it had once connected with, such as "Chu Fu."

Most of these virtual bodies came from victims who had disappeared in the amusement park. They could only operate within a certain range of Yi Fengchu himself and lacked strong, reliable abilities.

Bryce, with his memory-resistant nature and undeniable power, was perfect for Yi Fengchu’s operations in the physical world.

After some thought, Yi Fengchu cautiously pressed for more details: "Will there be detectable power surges during the descent?"

He didn’t want to wake up one day surrounded by official ability users from the Ability Management Bureau, getting dragged out of bed in cuffs.

["If another high-level ability user suddenly appeared, it would inevitably draw attention. Even when I constructed 'Chu Fu,' there was no way to avoid energy fluctuations entirely."]

"This is a core principle of abilities—where there is existence, there must be traces."

["But Bryce possesses the rare trait 'Beyond Observation.' Any entity or technology below his level cannot perceive, observe, or record him unless he voluntarily deactivates this state."]

This also meant that even if Yi Fengchu went wild using Bryce’s identity, brazenly waltzing in and out of the Anomalous Affairs Bureau’s headquarters to peek at their amusement park records, he’d almost certainly go unnoticed...

Noticing Yi Fengchu’s scheming expression, the phone warned: ["I’d advise you to behave. The Ability Management Bureau headquarters holds an A-grade or higher artifact called the 'All-Seeing Eye,' watching every inch of the place, 24/7 without blind spots."]

"Though even if all the official ability users swarmed in, they’d struggle to handle Apostle Bryce’s tier dominance, there’s no need to make enemies for no reason."

"Don’t worry, I get it. I’m just a little curious about what classified findings the authorities have gathered so far."

Yi Fengchu stood up, drew the curtains tightly shut, and leaned closer to the phone: "No time like the present—let’s test this descent function right now!"

The phone seemed surprised, pausing before confirming: "Already?"

"Since the new feature was developed for me anyway, why not try it early?" Yi Fengchu said casually.

["...Fine,"] the phone responded, ["Please select the descent location."]

"My home—" Yi Fengchu began, then abruptly changed his mind. "No, the apartment’s first-floor entrance."

["Descent location confirmed. Loading now—ten, nine, eight..."]

The phone’s voice gradually faded from Yi Fengchu’s ears. A wave of dizziness hit him, as if everything around him twisted into a blurry spiral, spinning away.

Before his vision fully distorted, Yi Fengchu fought to stay conscious and glanced at the wall clock.

The second hand ticked steadily, aligning perfectly with the hour and minute hands at the last moment—all pointing like onyx spears at "12."

When Yi Fengchu opened his eyes again, strands of golden hair already draped over his shoulder, sunlight glittering like spun gold in the strands. The ragged, ribbon-soft tendrils swayed without wind, lightly brushing his ankles.

He opened a pair of blood-red eyes. Passersby paid no attention to his sudden appearance, walked right by without noticing.

As they brushed by, an unseen force riffled through their memories, exposing every memory in vivid detail—as if projected onto a giant screen.

"Echoes of the Past"... Yi Fengchu began to understand this ability.

Bathed in sunlight, the young man—his golden hair brighter than the sun itself—curved his lips into a gentle smile. At this moment, he had truly become the Apostle of Fate, "Bryce."