[Promotional message skipped: Not relevant to the story.]
Jack Young and Paladin settled back onto the park bench, facing the sunset. The golden light bounced off the skyscraper glass, scattering into a glorious haze. The sky stretched high and blue, streaked with wisps of cloud—Shanghai showing off, as usual.
Honestly, it's an unbelievably gorgeous view.
But despite the beautiful sunset, neither of them looked particularly happy. Jack, running in safety mode, was basically a blank slate—no joy, no sorrow, just vibes. Paladin, though, sat with his hands clasped, elbows on knees, sporting a smile that was equal parts scruffy and tired. "I've been exiled. A knight who loses his faith gets stripped of everything, kicked out of his home. And now, I'm just lost out here in the world."
"Why?" Jack blurted out the question that had been bouncing around his head lately. For some reason, he actually felt like talking—maybe because, when he looked at Paladin, he didn’t see any of those weird supernatural double-vision effects.
"I can't find my faith anymore." Paladin scratched his head, sounding rough around the edges—pretty much what you'd expect from a mercenary boss who leads charges into other worlds. "You don't talk much. You act like you don't give a damn about all this crap. But trust me, if you ever realize everything you've believed in is just a pile of crap, you'll be right there with me. Got anything you’d risk your life to protect? Anything you actually believe in?"
Jack didn’t flinch. An answer popped into his mind: "Yeah."
"Well, good for you, kid!" Paladin glanced at Jack’s indifferent eyes before asking, "But do you still believe in all that stuff? Still think everything you’ve ever done was the right call?"
"Most of it, yeah. Some things..." Jack’s usually blank eyes flickered, and for a second, his face showed a hint of confusion. "I don’t know."
"Heh, looks like we’re not so different. Thing is, I’m starting to doubt everything I’ve ever done." Paladin slouched back against the bench, all loose and lazy. "Your friend’s holy light is something else. That kid’s definitely going places."
Jack asked another curious question: "So, why’d you come here? If you’re exiling yourself, why pick Shanghai?"
"For the Fated One, obviously." Paladin looked up at the sky. "The Fated One—there’s gotta be a reason for that name. Maybe he’s destiny’s stand-in, Heaven’s errand boy. I’m thinking he might be the king of all Chosen Ones, the boss of bosses. I’m dying to meet him, hoping he’ll give me some peace of mind. Sounds stupid, I know, but hey, a guy’s gotta believe in something."
Paladin had basically turned the mysterious Fated One into his last hope—a faith, a lifeline, a god.
He probably wasn’t the only one. After the wild White Night event, not every Chosen One was still clinging to atheism.
Of course, plenty of people hated the idea of some god showing up. If the Fated One ever went public, it’d be chaos—like a tidal wave smashing through the city.
"Alright, I’m off to hunt for some grub. Even a heretic’s gotta eat. Well, see ya—hope things go your way."
After their short chat, Paladin left again. This time, Jack didn’t follow. He just sat there, grilling himself—was any of what he’d done actually right?
What if I hadn’t turned down that hug—how would things be now?
What if I’d grabbed her, pinned her to the wall, kissed her breathless—what would’ve happened?
What if I’d ripped up her train ticket and told her, ‘You’re not going anywhere for this break’—what then?
What if—not just that one time, but way back, from the very start—I’d gone all in, chased her with everything I had?
Would I be living a totally different future now, walking a completely different path? Would I be way happier than I am?
Was what I did back then really the right thing? Was it actually good?
He got lost in thought, asking himself, "Why didn’t I do it back then?"
No answer popped up—he’d have to figure it out himself.
He looked up at the sunset, and suddenly realized it wasn’t just people—now the whole world was starting to double up. In one vision, the city was clean, stylish, modern, bursting with life. The air was so fresh you could spot every detail on the far-off skyscrapers. Smog? That was ancient history.
But in the other vision, the sky was thick with clouds, so heavy it felt like you couldn’t breathe. Wisps of black stuff floated in the air—didn’t block your sight, but sure messed with your mind. Streets, lamps, walls, plants—everything looked twisted, like something out of a surreal horror flick.
And the kicker? That black haze was like PM2.5, wrapping around everyone. It tangled itself around every living thing, especially people. Folks breathed it in, breathed it out—no big deal, right? Except some people exhaled as much as they inhaled, some barely breathed it out, and some, weirdly enough, breathed out even more than they took in.
"What is this stuff?" Jack got curious.
He suddenly remembered, back at the concert when his psychic powers stretched to the max, he’d sensed a deep, ominous vibe—that was coming from this black haze. At the peak of his mental expansion, he realized the haze was trying to latch onto his mind. Didn’t work too well, though. Plus, back then, the haze wasn’t nearly this thick. In just one day, now you could see it plain as day.
Jack reached out, like a kid trying to catch soap bubbles in the air, and tried to grab the black haze. But it was like air—slipping right through his fingers, impossible to hold onto.
What was this stuff, anyway? Where did it come from? What did it do?
All these questions popped into Jack’s head, but he just shrugged them off. In safety mode, his feelings and logic were duking it out deep inside, totally ignoring the outside world. With both reason and emotion on mute, he was practically a ghost in the city.
It was like he was one of those AFK bots in a game—just wandering around doing the bare minimum until the real player logs back in.
But he knew the battle inside wouldn’t last much longer. This offline mode? Temporary.
Another day rolled by—October 17th.
Yang Shu and the others pulled out all the stops, tried every trick in the book, but still couldn’t find Jack. What, just call his cell? Yeah, everyone thought of that, but no luck—totally useless.
They even discussed whether Jack had left Shanghai. With his energy, he totally could’ve. But everyone—including Apo—had a gut feeling he’d stick around. So, the search continued.
Meanwhile, Zhu Ming was finally making some real progress. After cracking a bunch of tech headaches, he strapped on a headband-style controller and went full focus for some remote piloting. The slick machine finally responded—raising an arm, twisting its waist, then throwing a punch that dented a metal plate with a loud clang. Clumsy, sure, but seriously powerful.
Zhu Ming was pumped, but also a bit baffled—had Cobra just forgotten about him lately? The guy used to mess with him all the time, and now, radio silence. Zhu Ming wondered if Cobra had caught onto something, but with his machine working, he was starting not to care what Cobra thought.
Screw the secret department—now that I’ve got this machine, nothing can stop me!
While all the researchers were busy helping Zhu Ming with his gear, Cobra had his own headaches to deal with.
"All the surveillance is getting fuzzy—boring!" Cobra yawned, totally unfazed. "Hey, how’s the wired signal looking?"
"Sir, the wired signals are messed up too. After checking, every communication device linked to the city is losing effectiveness. Even fiber optics—anything passing through the fog zone gets scrambled." The aide suggested, "Sir, this feels really off. Should we think about evacuating people?"
"Evacuate?" Cobra lounged back, arms behind his head, totally chill. "When? For how long? For what reason? You want me to evacuate a city of twenty million just because some fog’s messing with the Wi-Fi? Do you know how much chaos and money that’d cost? Our department budget for ten years couldn’t cover it!—That’s what a regular boss would say, right?"
The aide was used to Cobra’s wild style and managed to hold back a snarky comment, instead asking seriously, "So, sir, what’s your plan?"
"I’ve got no plan. Legally, we don’t have jobs, power, or even real citizenship—we basically don’t exist. We’re off-the-books, so we gotta tiptoe around everything, play it real safe." Cobra dragged himself to his feet, yawning. "Still, gotta say something."
"Say what, exactly?" The aide was a little lost. "How much do we tell them?"
"Go big or go home! Make it sound as bad, wild, and unbelievable as possible!" He rubbed his forehead, snapped his fingers, and lit up. "Yeah, tell them Shanghai’s facing the worst terror attack ever—someone’s dropping nukes, spreading bioweapons, or summoning evil gods downtown! Send in the army, supplies, everything—if they’re late, they’ll just be hauling bodies!"
The aide finally couldn’t hold back a snarky comment: "Uh… nobody’s gonna buy that…"
Of course no one’ll believe it—I don’t even buy it, and anyone who does is an idiot. All this weird stuff lately? It’s probably just a freak of nature, not some evil plot. This kind of massive operation? No way it’s man-made. But hey, negotiations are all about asking for the moon and settling for lunch money. Let’s send it up, scare them a little—it’s better than letting them sit around and make trouble for us." Cobra led the way out. "Let’s go. Even if we’re just talking nonsense, you gotta have a good story. Let’s check on our little cockroach buddy first."
In front of the terrarium.
Cobra adjusted his glasses and greeted the bugs: "Hey there, folks, how’s life? Has my buddy here been treating you okay? If you’re happy with the service, give us a round of applause, will you?—Nothing. See?" He patted the aide’s shoulder and sighed. "Kid, I keep telling you—if you want to get things done, you gotta get down with the masses. Just look, everyone’s dissatisfied!"
"Dissatisfied? That’s not dissatisfaction—they’re all dead…" The aide was shocked and a little exasperated. "Wait, they’re all dead? Aren’t cockroaches supposed to be the toughest creatures around?"
"Maybe they fought over a guy, tore each other apart, and took each other out—who knows? But hey, don’t they look a little slimmer, a little skinnier than before? Oh, oh, look—life rises from death!"
Crackle—something squirmed in the pile of dead cockroaches. One of their bellies burst open, and a larva crawled out. Barely born, but already looking tougher and meaner than its parents.
[Promotional message skipped: Not relevant to the story.]
Cobra stroked his chin, watching with interest for a while, then suddenly blurted, "Word is, the fog’s thicker today."
The fog really was heavier—even in the smog, you could see it clearly.
[Eastern Magic City is gunning for London’s crown as Fog Capital!]
News outlets everywhere were buzzing about the fog—open up any app, and you’d spot it in the top headlines, even the gossip columns. Editors and netizens alike were cracking jokes, tossing out wild theories to explain this weird ‘ring-shaped fog’—but honestly, it was all just fantasy and snark.
While everyone was glued to the updates, the fog kept expanding. Every little bump in diameter meant a massive jump in area. This wall of fog had already boxed in about ten million people—and it was still spreading.
The fog was so thick, high-tech gear couldn’t measure it, but anyone could see it getting denser, taller, and darker. It looked ready to merge with the clouds and seal off the whole city. The clouds were causing trouble too—radio interference, flight delays, airlines losing their minds.
Planes couldn’t take off or land, and the airports were packed with stranded passengers. The sky looked totally clear, so why were flights delayed for ‘weather and technical reasons’? Angry travelers waved their boarding passes, demanding answers, but the airport staff were just as clueless—taking the heat and saying nothing.
Arguments broke out—shouting, snark, even some folks getting ready to throw punches. That invisible black haze hung all around them.
At 2 p.m., a flight from Chengdu circled over Shanghai for ages, unable to land. The crew tried to calm the passengers, but couldn’t hide their own nerves.
Up in first class, a ridiculously cute boy wasn’t worried about landing at all. Dodging the flight attendant’s gaze, he snuck his phone camera toward the clouds, mumbling, "Yep, just like that—let’s do a few more laps…"
On his phone, a progress bar crawled forward. Fifteen minutes later, the plane diverted to Suzhou airport, veering away from the foggy airspace. Just as the progress bar finished, a crazy complex hexagram popped up on the screen.
The boy stared at the hexagram, jaw dropped for ages, then yelled out, not caring who heard: "What the heck is this!"
All over, mysterious places and people felt the shift. In the most secretive, shadowy hall, a figure melted out of the darkness and knelt, shouting toward the throne: "My lord, we’ve received the Sixth Star’s transmission!"
The man on the throne glanced at the message, then suddenly burst out laughing. The sound echoed through the hall—heavy, joyful, and absolute. "Now this is a surprise worth celebrating!"
The world’s dimensions just started to skew. [Promotional message skipped: Not relevant to the story.]