chsdbacks Chapter 669 The Final Mission and Farewell
Chapter 669 The Final Mission and Farewell
Chapter 669 The Final Mission and Farewell
Jemin's mental energy swept across the entire city in an instant.
Those psychics hiding in the depths of the streets, hospital wards, and the association's headquarters are currently experiencing their own hardships.
Some squatted on the ground, heads in their hands, veins bulging from their temples; some curled up on the bed, eyes rolled back, white foam spilling from the corners of their mouths; some let out suppressed roars, clutching their hair as if trying to rip something out of their brains.
The stronger a person's inspiration, the more intense their reaction.
The association's emergency broadcasts have already sounded over the city, and the sirens of ambulances are converging from all directions, like countless rivers flowing into the same sea.
Jemin withdrew his mental energy and focused his gaze on the inner world within his body.
The MagicNet terminal lit up.
The moment Jemin's mental energy touched that message, he sensed the presence of an eighth-level archmage.
The Archmage of Austin initiated the highest-priority multidimensional broadcast.
The message was short: "I am Austin. The strange phenomena in the sky were caused by me."
There wasn't even a single unnecessary polite word at the beginning.
He then explained in detail the reasons for the phenomenon.
After discovering this dimension, Austin was clearly not content with merely using it as a bizarre hunting ground.
The level eight archmage was obviously aware of the strange fusion rules that Jemin had discovered, and he naturally had his own ideas.
He intends to integrate most of the strangeness of this plane and transform it into a part of his own life form, using it as nourishment to further enhance himself.
When Jemin read the words "change one's life form," his pupils contracted slightly.
Although the information was brief, Jemin immediately thought of a word: harmony with the Tao.
What Austin is trying to do is essentially the same thing as the Dao integration in the cultivation system.
By incorporating those bizarre elements, which are themselves fragments of the world's rules, into their own existence, they can alter their life form and achieve further advancement.
The subsequent message mentioned that this process was not without cost.
The bizarre is essentially an existence deeply integrated with the rules of the world.
The eeriness of the night is intertwined with the darkness itself, just as the eeriness of the ocean is closely intertwined with the ocean's tides, currents, and even the concept of "depth."
Extracting the bizarre is like removing a bone from the body of a dimension.
To fill the voids left after those were removed, the very essence of the planes will frantically generate new and bizarre phenomena.
Among them are many "destructive" beings!
These newly emerging anomalies each have their own rules, which are a devastating blow to human civilization in this world.
This is also why the Wizard of Austin issued this announcement.
The last line of the broadcast lit up in Jemin's mind: "All wizards in this plane, from this moment forward, assist in clearing and containing these newly born anomalies. You are the temporary stabilizers of this plane. In return, all the anomalies you contain will belong to you personally."
The light from the Magic Network Terminal went out.
In the surrounding sky, in other directions, in some corner of other cities, Jemin could feel the mental energy of those who, like him, had accessed the Magic Network terminal simultaneously withdrawing.
Those high-ranking wizards of level six or seven should be wearing the same expression as him right now.
excited.
A devastating anomaly, and one that was born from the very origin of the plane.
Jemin didn't know what the other wizards were thinking, but to him, this strangeness was the best example for his research on the Dao!
Although he has obtained a large number of research samples through the Psychic Association over the past ten years, let alone the Destruction level, even the Cataclysmic level is only as strange as the shadow he obtained back then.
Jemin took a deep breath and suppressed his emotions.
His brain was working rapidly, piecing together information from the past.
No wonder Austin only appeared as a projection when the mission was completed.
The true form of that level eight great wizard was not in his private plane, but in the origin of this plane.
He spent countless years there setting up the overall plan, bringing the entire plane's bizarre network under his control, and then at this moment, he simultaneously withdrew the vast majority of the bizarre power.
Jemin looked up at the dark purple sky.
Those slowly wriggling black lines are not flaws or contamination, but rather scars left by the original essence of the plane as it tears and mends itself.
Beneath each line, a new eeriness is being born.
He suddenly thought of a question.
The reason he was able to come to this dimension was that Austin's private dimension was infiltrated by strange rule phenomena.
In retrospect, while it's highly likely that the incident wasn't intentional, the subsequent developments were probably a result of this level-eight wizard going with the flow.
Its existence is too bizarre and its nature is too unique.
They are like part of the world's immune system, naturally hostile to all forces that do not belong to this world.
If Austin were to use his cannon fodder units to clear out the rampaging, destructive anomalies, the brutal use of force would trigger a violent dimensional repulsion, making the situation even worse.
Therefore, wizards are indeed the most suitable people to deal with the bizarre—or rather, with their wisdom and knowledge, wizards are the most suitable for doing anything.
These wizards were specifically recruited by the Wizards of Austin to act as stabilizers from the very beginning.
Jemin understood this in his heart and slowly exhaled.
He had no complaints about this kind of calculation that could benefit both sides.
His figure slowly descended from the sky, his feet landing softly on the roof tiles of the bookstore.
Eric was still standing on the rooftop, head tilted back, staring intently at the dark purple sky.
His lips were trembling slightly, as his inspiration was under pressure far exceeding his capacity.
Fortunately, thanks to Jemin's careful planning, the strange phenomenon within Eric's body has begun to form a preliminary cycle.
The body's resistance to such things is greatly increased, preventing it from collapsing on the spot.
Even so, Eric broke out in a cold sweat.
"Teacher," his voice was slightly unsteady, "what exactly happened?"
Jemin did not answer immediately.
He jumped off the roof and landed on the stone path in front of the bookstore, then pushed open the wooden door and went inside.
Eric followed behind, one hand on the door frame, his steps unsteady.
The phone in the bookstore is ringing.
Jemin picked up the microphone, and Harding's voice came from the other end.
The old man spoke much faster than usual, with an undisguised tension, but his pronunciation remained clear.
"Jermin, did you see that? That color in the sky—"
"I saw it," Jemin said calmly.
"The association has sent someone to pick you up. The car will arrive in about twenty minutes. The president asked me to tell you that things will be very chaotic outside during this period. You two are the association's most important researchers, and nothing can go wrong. Come to headquarters first, and go back after the situation stabilizes."
Jemin held the microphone and paused for a moment.
"The supernatural activity has been quite high lately." His voice wasn't loud, but it was firm. "Have your people prepare accordingly. Evacuate residents from high-risk areas in advance, and deploy more psychics to key facilities to ensure the safety of hospitals..."
Power plants and water treatment plants cannot be without staff.
"The president is already making arrangements," Harding's voice came through the microphone. "The car—"
"We don't need to worry about this side," Jemin interrupted him. "There's no need for us to come pick us up."
Harding paused for a moment.
Then the old man spoke again, his tone carrying a cautious uncertainty.
"Jermin, what—what do you mean by this?"
Jemin did not explain.
He took the microphone away from his ear and gently placed it back on the landline.
The sound of the phone being hung up was particularly crisp in the quiet bookstore.
Eric stood beside the bookshelf, one hand still resting on the edge of the shelf, and his pupils dilated slightly as he watched Jemin's actions.
Having known his teacher for ten years, he could naturally discern his teacher's emotions very clearly.
"Teacher," Eric's voice was tense, "what are you going to do?"
Jemin turned around to face him.
Eric's expression remained calm, but he noticed that the teacher's eyes looked different than usual.
"I'm leaving," Jemin said.
Eric stood there, stunned.
His mouth opened, his lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but his throat seemed to be blocked by something.
He looked at Jemin's face, the face he had looked at for ten years, the face he thought he would look at forever, and suddenly it felt very distant.
"Where to?" He finally found his voice.
The voice was softer than he expected, like a child asking a question.
Jemin did not answer where he was going.
He simply looked at Eric, his gaze calm.
Eric's fingers clenched tightly on the edge of the bookshelf.
He took a deep breath, suppressed the surging emotions in his chest, and then asked the question he already knew the answer to.
"Teacher, will you come back?"
Jemin shook his head.
The movement was slow, but without hesitation.
Although Master Austin didn't explicitly state it in the mission description, all the wizards, including Jemin, knew very well that they would be practically bursting at the seams after completing the mission.
"Behind the laboratory wall in the basement," Jemin's voice remained unhurried, devoid of any emotional fluctuations expected at a parting, "there's something I left for you. You can decide for yourself whether to distribute its contents."
"Oh, right." Jemin seemed to remember something, his tone still calm, "Dirk made an appointment with me before. He'll be back in a while and wants me to help adjust the seal. You'll have to do it yourself then. With your current skills, it shouldn't be a problem."
Eric opened his mouth, but his mouth opened and closed repeatedly, and in the end he didn't utter a single word.
Fortunately, Jemin's attitude made him feel much more at ease; at least his mentor didn't seem like he was going to commit suicide.
"Teacher." Eric's voice finally calmed down. He loosened his grip on the bookshelf frame, and his hand fell to his sides, resting against his trouser seam.
He bent his back slightly, his tone full of pleading.
"Can I go with you, teacher?"
Jemin looked at him and slowly shook his head.
Although this plane is not openly affected by any external forces, all the wizards who come here know that this plane is actually the property of the great wizard Austin.
They have no right to take anything unless the other party gives permission.
Eric's carefully built-up momentum immediately dissipated.
In fact, he already knew the answer.
From the first day he met Jemin, he knew that his teacher did not belong here.
Eric knew from his teacher's demeanor and his sense of alienation from everything around him that his teacher harbored a secret.
He didn't even think it was a secret he needed to keep.
Do those people in the Psychic Association, whether it's Harding, the president, or those high-ranking members who have worked with the teacher for many years, really not know?
Of course they know.
A researcher of unknown origin and with ridiculously high technical skills suddenly appears in the foggy city, with no traceable background, no family ties, and no social network.
Such a person would be suspicious in any era, in any country, or in any organization.
But the benefits that Jemin brought were too great.
His improved sealing techniques allowed the association's psychics to live for decades longer; his bizarre separation techniques allowed the elderly who had dedicated their lives to the association to enjoy their later years in peace; and his healing methods enabled patients with damaged souls who would otherwise have been left to die to stand up again.
In this bizarre world where human life is cheap, Jemin's value is equivalent to that of a hundred association elites.
So everyone tacitly chose not to break the ice.
They used silence to create a protective layer for Jemin, and Jemin repaid that silence with his technology.
Eric swallowed all the reluctance and resentment that welled up inside him.
His chest heaved violently twice before returning to calm.
"Then—" his voice was hoarse, "I am very grateful for all these years, teacher."
He covered his chest with one hand, bent down, and made a solemn gesture of respect.
Jemin looked up at the top of his head.
The hair on the top of his head was a bit long, and there was a small tuft of hair sticking up at the back of his head, probably messed up by the rubble when he rushed up from the underground laboratory.
The collar of the white coat wasn't turned up properly; the left side was higher than the right.
He raised his right hand and placed it on Eric's head.
The temperature of the palm was neither too high nor too low, and the pressure was neither too light nor too heavy.
Eric's body trembled slightly the moment he was touched, and then froze.
Jemin touched the top of his head and then moved his hand away.
Eric straightened up and wiped his face.
Then his movements froze.
Standing before him was not the ordinary, unremarkable Jemin he had known for ten years.
Jemin's height is increasing rapidly.
He grew from less than 1.8 meters tall to 1.9 meters, then 2 meters.
Their appearance is also changing.
Ordinary facial contours become clearer, and the lines of facial features shift from blurry to sharp.
The ordinariness in his eyes and brows disappeared, replaced by a kind of handsomeness that did not belong to this era.
The clothes on Jemin's body had somehow changed into a dark robe, which was not the clothing of this world.
The robe's texture resembled flowing dark metal, gleaming with a deep luster under the bookstore's warm yellow lights.
His hair was longer than before, hanging down to his shoulders, the strands reflecting a very faint dark gold in the light.
Eric didn't even notice that he had opened his mouth.
He stood there with his mouth slightly open, looking at the person in front of him who was both strange and familiar. Only one thought kept running through his mind: So this is what a teacher looks like.
After returning to his original form, Jemin looked at him and gave Eric a slight smile.
Then his figure began to fade.
Under the influence of the Tai Xu Step, his outline became blurred, and his color changed from saturated to pale.
Eric instinctively reached out to grab it.
My fingers passed through the fading light and shadow, but touched nothing.
He was the only one left in the bookstore.
The books on the bookshelf were arranged quietly, the light bulb on the ceiling shone with a warm yellow light, and the teacup on the table was still steaming.
The rocking chair swayed slightly when Jemin got up, and it's still swaying gently now.
Everything was the same as usual.
There's just one person missing.
Eric stood still, his hand still outstretched.
He looked at the empty space and slowly withdrew his hand.
His shoulders slumped slightly, but his back straightened even more.
His jaw tightened, and his lips were pressed into a thin line.
His eyes were red, but there were no tears.
The sound of hurried footsteps grew closer and closer on the stone path outside the door.
It was the sound of several people running, their steps heavy and fast, their boots making a jumbled sound on the wet stone slabs.
Eric turned and walked toward the door.
He pushed open the wooden door and stood on the threshold.
A grayish-white mist rushed towards us, carrying the damp, cold smell unique to the foggy city, mixed with the aroma of coal smoke and the sea.
Harding ran in the lead, followed by three familiar faces wearing association uniforms.
Their foreheads were covered in sweat, and they were breathing rapidly, clearly having run all the way.
Harding stopped in front of the bookstore, put his hands on his knees, and gasped for breath.
He looked up at Eric, who was standing on the threshold, and then at the interior of the bookstore behind Eric.
The rocking chair was still swaying, the teacups were still steaming, and the newspapers were still on the table.
"Where's your teacher?" Harding's voice was hoarse and urgent, punctuated by gasps for breath.
Eric stood on the threshold, his gaze passing over Harding's head and landing on the dark purple sky in the distance.
The writhing black lines were denser than before, like a net tightening.
"I'm leaving," he said.
Harding's breathing stopped for a moment.
He straightened up, his gaze shifting from Eric's face to the empty bookstore behind him, and then back to Eric's face.
"Where did you go?"
Eric shook his head and didn't say anything.
Harding stared at him for a few seconds, then slowly nodded.
He didn't ask any more questions.
The three team members behind him exchanged glances, and two of them took a few steps back, whispering something to each other at the alley entrance.
The other stood still, his hand on the communicator at his waist, seemingly hesitating whether to report the news to headquarters.
Harding took a step forward, walked up the steps, and stood next to Eric.
Neither of them spoke.
The mist rushed in from the alley entrance, spilling over the stone-paved road, over the threshold of the bookstore, and over the feet of the two people.
In the distance, the factory's whistle sounded against the dark purple sky, deep and long, as if bidding farewell to something that had already gone.
(Something came up, so this is all for today.)