Chapter 560: Fragments of a Dazed Life

Is this what pain feels like?

Lu Xin couldn’t even explain his emotions; he didn’t know why he was crying—his tears just flowed relentlessly.

Maybe it was because, for the first time, he saw himself clearly?

……

……

Even as he grew up, Lu Xin’s life remained a muddled haze.

Even his memories stayed gray and scattered. He avoided revisiting them because every recollection dredged up an overwhelming heaviness.

Yet a report card from the Old Director suddenly made several chapters of his life startlingly clear.

He didn’t try to discuss it with his family, but that report—and the trials it listed—spoke volumes.

He remembered it all too well.

The sight of the Trial of Life brought back the earliest, blurred fragments of his mind.

He recalled waking from an abstract nightmare, completely ignorant of the world around him.

He remembered every detail of that dream, though he could never articulate its surreal scenes.

Everything in that nightmare was so abstract that it defied description in human language.

Every sensation whispered to him the meaningless nature of the world.

Even if the trial was his very first—confusing and perplexing—it had somehow bestowed meaning upon his life.

His very arrival, and his attempt to understand the world, was a trial in itself.

……

……

Yet even after that trial, he remained in a daze.

He only observed the people and surroundings with detached curiosity, finding everything strangely new and amusing, yet ultimately insignificant.

Even now, when Lu Xin recalled his days at the Orphanage, he remembered watching everything with an unnervingly calm gaze, puzzled by how others could express such rich emotions through laughter and tears.

Back then, he felt trapped inside a thick shell.

Seeing the pain and anger of others left him indifferent, unable to understand—or even care—seeing it as nothing more than affectation.

Teacher Xiao Lu was, in truth, a rather foolish girl.

Without truly understanding him, she had treated him as a friend and stubbornly clung to her belief in her own kindness.

In retrospect, the one who understood him best was Number Seven.

Perhaps it was because she was the one closest in nature to a monster?

All his perceptions began on that rainy night.

That night—a night of betrayal and blood, gunfire and raging flames—awakened him to the harsh truths of life and shattered hope.

The thick shell finally cracked, and he felt pain for the very first time.

It was the first time he had experienced pain so vividly.

After that…

Lu Xin recalled that his memory plunged into chaos for two or three years; he had no idea how he survived. Judging by the timeline, he must have wandered the streets until his family took him in, setting him on a path to a normal, healthy life and studies—until one fateful night when, on his way home from extra shifts, he met Teacher Xiao Lu again.

Her leg was already broken.

He began working hard, earning money, taking care of them, and helping out in any way he could.

It was during that time that his memories of the Orphanage started to gain color.

Initially, he felt nothing as he endured life at the Orphanage, but from that moment on, recollections of those times became increasingly intriguing, occasionally even drawing an involuntary smile.

Perhaps only after loss could one begin to appreciate what was once taken for granted?

It was exhausting, but those years felt the most fulfilling of his life.

Lu Xin mused that if his life continued this way, he might eventually feel content.

Yet life, inevitably, goes on.

He joined the Special Cleaning Department, encountered Mental Monsters, witnessed Mental Pollution, and learned about Ability Users.

He discovered that his family were truly capable individuals who could help him in countless ways.

But they, too, harbored their secrets, deliberately hiding things from him while he subconsciously played along—a silent, unspoken game.

But games, eventually, grow tiresome.

More than once, he felt a fire blaze within, inciting him to question the world.

He often found life’s absurdities laughable, ridiculous, and childish.

Yet it seemed that everyone was the same, and since he never sought the spotlight, he kept his silence…

Only at certain critical moments would that fire suddenly burst into flame.

Unprovoked anger and fleeting impulses of indifference would unpredictably surge through his mind.

Whenever that fire ignited, he would come to understand and realize something deeper.

It was like a runner in a 100-meter dash, discovering they could accelerate without limits.

That burst of speed brought an exhilarating sense of freedom.

Yet in that acceleration, he risked harming others…

Lu Xin had always known that there was no divine nature at play—only his own self.

……

……

Teacher Xiao Lu’s idealized version of him simply didn’t exist.

In her youth, she had misunderstood him, mistaking that image for his true self.

Whether it was his indifference or impulsiveness, whether in showing a proper smile or inadvertently exuding disdain, Lu Xin remained unaware of how others saw him—yet in his eyes, he was simply himself.

After all, it was all just his own perception.

Sometimes, he longed for someone who could truly understand him, but he found it difficult to explain.

No one could truly grasp his state of being.

If anyone could, perhaps it would be the Old Director…

This report card explained everything.

But why did it always have to be him?

Lu Xin didn’t know what the Old Director was up to, but he couldn’t stand it!

It seemed that all the things that once brought him joy and laughter were now relics of the past.

There was no hope for the future.

Lu Xin softly pounded his head, overwhelmed by a deep, unyielding darkness and despair.

Why couldn’t he live like those he once envied?

Why?

Even as tears streamed down his face, his eyes reddened further…

Anger surged from his eyes, and the entire room trembled violently.

In that moment, he could feel the muscles in his face contorting with strain.

That paper, under his unwavering gaze, crumpled rapidly, its surface wrinkling into deep folds.

“You really think you can completely control my life?”

……

……

Meanwhile, near the northwest of Heichao City, a hundred li away beside a dark marsh,

a massive Red Moon had already sunk into the West, on the verge of disappearing.

Its crimson glow outlined seven or eight figures on motorcycles by the marsh with startling clarity.

They were clad in tactical gear, with supplies piled on the back seats and gun holsters at the front. Judging by their attire, they were unmistakably from the Knight Orders, spaced evenly about two or three meters apart, encircling a woman on a motorcycle in the middle.

The woman looked to be in her mid-twenties, yet her youthful appearance was striking.

She possessed a breathtaking, haunting beauty, though her face carried several gruesome scars.

Her long legs, draped over the motorcycle, showcased firm, elegant curves, and every exposed inch of her skin was marked with bizarre tattoos of ghastly creatures and ominous monsters, lending her an eerie, fearsome aura.

She wore a wild, cropped top, but her smooth, delicate abdomen was marred by a repulsive scar.

The scar encircled her waist, unhidden by her tattoos—as if it had been violently torn open at some point.

She lowered her head, her breathing slow and labored.

After what seemed like an eternity, she suddenly lifted her head, took a deep breath, and snapped her right arm into action.

“Big Sis is back?”

At her sudden gasp, those nearby stirred with concern and glanced over.

Among them, several appeared to be in their thirties or forties yet naturally called her “Big Sis.” One bearded, older man immediately stepped forward and whispered, “The goods from Ghostfire Marsh have been secured. Also, it seems we’ve caught the Negative Zero Unit’s attention—they’re rapidly approaching from the North.”

“Negative Zero Unit?”

Big Sis furrowed her brows and sneered, “You’re asking for death.”

Instantly, some of those nearby unslung long guns from their holsters and slung them over their shoulders, asking, “Should we take them down?”

Big Sis almost agreed but then hesitated, glancing toward Heichao City and shaking her head.

“This time, let’s call it off. Fall back.”

The others watched her curiously.

“If we run into the Negative Zero Unit now, at least half of you will die.”

Big Sis said coldly, “I’m in a bad mood today—I can’t be bothered to find replacements for your losses.”

The rugged men and the girls around exchanged knowing smiles.

Motorcycles roared to life as they sped along the marsh’s edge like phantoms, their brilliant white beams clashing with the darkness and rivaling the glow of the Red Moon.

Leading the charge, Big Sis sped ahead, her motorcycle’s engine roaring and driving away countless small creatures.

Her brows remained tightly furrowed, as if deep in thought.

After a few hundred meters, clarity struck her suddenly, replacing her frown with a flash of anger.

“Old man, are you using me?”

She muttered, “Why do you always favor him?”

No one answered; even the knights trailing behind were used to her sudden emotional outbursts and baseless curses. Yet she grew increasingly furious, as if all her pent-up discontent had suddenly surged forth: “I’m the only one you should care about and invest in, but you only value that monster…”

“Is it that only the disobedient earn your favor? Then fine by me…”

“I can be even more rebellious than him…”

“…”

“…”

Her rant grew wild, and in her fury she began pounding her head violently.

The commotion even drew concerned glances from the knights around her.

“I’m fine…”

The woman looked up at them, her eyes bloodshot yet brimming with tears, and explained fiercely, “I was bitten by a bizarre dog. It seems to affect my emotions—even though I want to laugh out loud now…”

Pointing at her face, she added, “But I’m crying…”

The knights of the Knight Orders turned their heads; what she said seemed perfectly plausible.

Yet in the past, she would never have explained herself like this.

After her explanation, she suddenly twisted the throttle and sped ahead, as if the wind could dry her tears.

“Damn it, how annoying—so damn annoying…”

She gritted her teeth and growled, “Are you just bullying me because I’m brainless?”

“I have a brain, but I just choose not to use it…”

“I already possess the ability; why waste it on dealing with this mess?”

“…”

The more she spoke, the more her voice dripped with hate until, finally, a chilling smile spread across her face: “Old man, you are bound to fail.”

“You always say that divinity can be measured,”

“but now, what he has isn’t just divinity—it’s humanity. How do you quantify that?”