There was still a long way to go before we reached Nether City, the former capital where Yuna Ji once ruled. Although the car was fast, it was still no match for flying. We followed the Styx River along our route, and everywhere we passed looked desolate and barren.
From time to time, we had to take detours. Some mountain peaks rose right beside the river, and now we had entered a mountain path, forced to circle around for a while.
My gaze never left my corpse. The Engineer seemed tired and was sleeping. I quietly watched, never having imagined that after death—my soul already separated—my body would still retain my will.
We started to climb uphill, and the car slowed down, but there was still hardly any bumpiness. Despite the rugged, uneven mountain road beneath us, the vehicle moved as if on flat ground.
All of this felt magical—truly making the impossible possible. I smiled and looked at The Engineer.
The surrounding mountains had trees, but they all looked bizarre—some shaped like birds or beasts, others like grotesque faces.
Staying in a place like this for too long would make anyone uneasy. The sky was perpetually gray, life went on endlessly, and death was impossible. I didn’t know what Yuna Ji thought about it—this country she created herself had now fallen to such a miserable state.
There was no longer any dialogue between the rebels and Yuna Ji’s side—only blades met now. One side would submit completely, or die. I took out my phone and opened the Bing app to ask a question.
“How many days until we reach Nether City?”
As soon as I spoke, the Bing app flashed with a green light and brought up a map. A red line stretched across it, growing longer, with a flashing blue dot that should represent us.
"Eight days, twenty-one hours, forty-five minutes, and thirty-one seconds..."
I smiled. This device was also developed by The Engineer to collect data from my body. At this moment, the Bing app’s voice seemed unusually loud. The Engineer’s body creaked and he woke up.
"Sorry, Mr. Engineer, you can keep sleeping."
"No need, Ethan. I’ve slept enough. Let’s continue. I’ll slowly explain what’s going on with your body."
I nodded, and The Engineer began to explain.
At this stage, the weapons installed in my body are only prototypes. The formal development isn’t complete, but since my corpse has no consciousness, no sensation, and can’t speak, it’s difficult for the developers.
There’s no way to communicate—only experimental data can be used for improvement.
"Ethan, before, the ghost part in your body was purified, so the data from when you had ghost powers is no longer usable. After all, I developed this to be installed in humans."
I let out a sound of surprise and looked at The Engineer.
"We’ll talk about that later—it’s a long story. This weapon can be connected and controlled through the Specter Web. After learning about your situation, I had new ideas, but those ideas have changed a lot now."
I nodded. After all, I was already dead and couldn’t use my own will to operate the weapons The Engineer had designed.
"Try it, Ethan—use the Specter Web to connect to this gauntlet weapon."
I stood up and walked over to my corpse. The Engineer followed.
The Engineer squatted by my corpse, holding a tiny screwdriver. He inserted it into the center of the rows of small holes on the back of the gauntlet. With a click, I watched in surprise as the rows of holes flipped up on a spring-loaded plate, revealing what looked like a circuit board—black-green, studded with round protrusions.
"It’s ready, Ethan."
Following The Engineer’s instructions, I extended the Specter Web to those round protrusions. Suddenly, my eyes widened—I was speechless.
"Surprised, aren’t you, Ethan? This is the result of my years of research. The original idea was for ghosts to use it, but that failed. Only you can respond to it, and the Bing app has already tested it."
I made a sound of acknowledgment. The feeling was strange—my Specter Web flooded into those round protrusions, and the sensation grew stronger, almost tangible.
It was as if I had another set of nimble limbs. Suddenly, a vast, intricate, and extremely complex image appeared in my mind. All of this was unfamiliar—I didn’t understand it at all.
"Oh, you should be able to see it now, Ethan. That’s the weapon’s structure. But you don’t need to understand it—you just need to control it with your will."
I nodded, then recalled the moment my corpse fought. Suddenly, those small holes began to inhale. In my mind, I pictured striking with my fist, and the gauntlet started absorbing the surrounding energy.
"That’s enough, Ethan."
I nodded. Just then, a hiss of steam sounded—the connection was completely severed. The gauntlet, which had slowly lifted, dropped back down.
"It’s a pity you’re a ghost now, Ethan. If you were still both human and ghost, this device would work almost perfectly on you."
The Engineer sighed helplessly.
"Then why not let ghosts use it?"
I asked, and The Engineer gave a bitter smile as he replied.
"Most things in this world restrain and depend on each other. But you’re special, Ethan. It’s probably related to your instincts and coexistence—like the two poles of a magnet, always repelling each other."
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I nodded, and The Engineer continued explaining.
The weapons he created were powerful, but they had properties like the two poles of a magnet—this was a law of science that could not be violated. Yet my body seemed to be a paradox, something that transcended these common rules.
I was completely lost, not understanding what The Engineer was saying.
"A paradox, simply put, has three points. First, some conclusions seem wrong but are actually correct. Second, some seem entirely right but are actually wrong. Third, sometimes, even well-reasoned deductions are logically self-contradictory."
I made a sound of acknowledgment, still not fully understanding, but at least a little clearer. The people from the Immortality Society once said I was a bundle of contradictions—Lan Yin and Hugh Thompson both said so too.
"It’s like the ancient story of the spear and shield—a contradiction. But there’s a deeper metaphor here. In short, Ethan, you’re that kind of person, capable of breaking common sense. That’s why this thing is before you today."
I was deeply shocked. Slowly, I began to understand what The Engineer was saying.
"Your instinct and coexistence were born from this paradox."
"Mr. Engineer, do you know anything about instinct?"
I still didn’t fully understand instinct—only that it was a powerful force born from the deepest desires within illusion.
"Let me give you an example—a story I know about someone born with instinct. That way, you’ll understand better."
I nodded. If it’s a story, I can usually understand completely. I hadn’t expected The Engineer to be like Hugh Thompson—knowing how to explain things to me and make complex ideas clear.
"That’s something I realized after seeing you talk with Hugh Thompson. So I figured out how to communicate with you without leaving you confused. That kid’s pretty smart—if he put his mind to scientific research, he’d probably be amazing. I really hope he’ll help develop the Zhang Qingyuan weapon system."
I looked at The Engineer in surprise, then smiled. So it was Thompson—he truly understands how to help me grasp the essence of things quickly.
"Once, 1,500 years ago, there was a young girl. From the age of eleven, she stepped onto the battlefield, and on her eleventh birthday, she killed for the first time."
My heart skipped a beat as I stared blankly at The Engineer.
"Was it Yuna Ji?"
The Engineer nodded.
At that time, Yuna Ji was the emperor’s third daughter, with older siblings above and younger ones below.
Back then, in order to negotiate with enemies and form alliances, the weak nation had to send daughters away for marriage. Even so, because of poverty and weakness, they were still attacked—border regions suffered constant harassment and plundering.
Yuna Ji’s country was rich in resources, but its people, long accustomed to prosperity, had lost their fighting spirit. When Yuna Ji turned eleven, war broke out. Massive invasions followed, and their nation was quickly devoured by enemy forces.
From that moment, Yuna Ji entered the battlefield. Men, women, young and old—anyone who could wield a weapon fought, with no distinction.
Most of Yuna Ji’s siblings died in the opening battles. Witnessing it all, Yuna Ji threw herself into the endless war, fighting day after day.
I swallowed and looked at The Engineer. He smiled.
"Living in such times, there was no choice. If you didn’t fight, you died. It was the same in our era."