Chapter 49#

Partner#

Chu Chenli sneezed.

The two who had been talking over there immediately stopped and turned their gazes toward him in unison.

Hua Jin asked, “Are you sick?”

Chu Chenli rubbed his nose and shook his head, muttering, “Maybe someone’s cursing me behind my back.”

But Hua Jin still gave him a quick check-up before feeling at ease.

After returning, he had become especially attentive to his teammates’ physical conditions. After all, this wasn’t a game where they had the chance for a one-click recovery, and the effects the game had on their bodies were still unknown.

Besides, there was also Fang Xiyu, who had been lying in the lab for quite a while.

After Hua Jin finished discussing business with Shen Xuanyi, he remembered Fang Xiyu, who was still resting in the medical area. “I’ll go check on him first.”

Shen Xuanyi nodded. “Thanks for the trouble. But we’ll need to leave around nine o’clock, so make sure you come back to meet up before then.”

Hua Jin turned to glance at Chu Chenli, his expression as if he wanted to say something but hesitated.

After a moment of deliberation, he simply turned and left.

Chu Chenli watched him go out the door and quickly turn the corner, soon disappearing from sight.

“Oh, right, I’m returning this to you.” Shen Xuanyi’s voice came from behind.

Chu Chenli turned back to see Shen Xuanyi handing him a familiar short blade. He froze for a moment. “Isn’t this—”

Shen Xuanyi said, “Important things need to be kept safe.”

Chu Chenli hesitated as if he wanted to say something. This blade was the one he had left behind back at the Nanzhou base. It wasn’t an accidental loss but a deliberate act to completely break with the past.

Shen Xuanyi knew him well enough to see the hidden meaning behind it, yet he still chose to bring the blade back and return it to Chu Chenli.

“Breaking with the past doesn’t mean you can’t hold hope for the future,” Shen Xuanyi said. “With so many important people, there are bound to be some good memories. There’s no need to force yourself to forget.”

Chu Chenli eventually reached out and took the blade.

Shen Xuanyi asked him, “Haven’t you ever thought about seeing them again?”

Chu Chenli said, “No.”

The answer came without hesitation.

Shen Xuanyi asked, “Not even wanted to?”

Chu Chenli hesitated for a moment, tilting his head slightly, and gave an ambiguous reply. “Maybe I’ve thought about it.”

“If that passage really leads to a safe otherworld, then it must still be connected to this world somehow.” Shen Xuanyi glanced at Chu Chenli’s confused expression and suddenly smiled. “Think of it as nothing more than an idle wish of mine. I’m not omniscient enough to know all the secrets of the world.”

The Prophecy Bearer, the builder of the otherworld passage, the developer of the game—perhaps there were many other hidden individuals or organizations that had long been preparing for the cataclysmic end of the world. But before the catastrophe truly descended, they had no knowledge of each other’s existence.

If the cataclysm never came, they would have been nothing but clowns forgotten by the world.

Yet through that long, long time, they still silently persevered.

Such persistence required a strong conviction. The core of it was both simple and complex: for survival, for the future of humanity, for the continuation of civilization. They chose different paths and gave everything in their efforts, also prepared for all their efforts to come to nothing.

But that didn’t mean they had no desires behind their efforts—no hopes, even no delusions. Even if they were forced to flee to a distant place, they would still long to return home, to return to the warm and mundane days of the past.

Shen Xuanyi said he was projecting himself onto others—even with a passage to an otherworld, there would surely be a connection point to the old world.

Chu Chenli asked with some confusion, “But even if we found it, so what?”

Shen Xuanyi was momentarily speechless.

It wasn’t that Chu Chenli didn’t think deeply—on the contrary, he thought too deeply, imagining all the worst outcomes. If such a place were truly found, wouldn’t the people left behind in the end-times feel anger, hatred, despair, or pain? If contact was made with the old world, wouldn’t it have a negative impact on the originally safe otherworld?

Or maybe there was no safe haven at all for humanity to escape to, and the people left in the cataclysm were the only survivors.

“It’s just a comfort. Humans are such emotional creatures; we always need something to hold on to deep down.” Shen Xuanyi looked at Chu Chenli’s indifferent expression and sighed softly. “Forget it, just think of it as me speaking casually.”

Shen Xuanyi waved his hand and told Chu Chenli to go call someone from a certain room downstairs before heading back.

Central Base had assigned him several personal assistants to handle trivial daily matters, but for this trip far away, he only brought one. He was usually accustomed to taking care of things himself, but his body hadn’t fully recovered yet, and there were always times when it was inconvenient.

Chu Chenli went downstairs and knocked on the assistant’s door.

The young man inside opened the door quickly. He looked to be just over twenty, of average height and build, not particularly handsome but not ugly either. His features fit together quite harmoniously, making him the kind of person who would blend right into a crowd.

In short, from head to toe, he was a complete background character.

But his hair was strikingly premature gray—at least half of his black short hair was streaked with white, scattered about as if a snowfall had landed on his head.

One look at him, and you might not remember his face, but you’d definitely remember his head.

Chu Chenli instantly recalled having seen him at various times and places over the past two days. He had assumed the guy was just some logistics personnel sent by Central Base, bustling about here and there, only to find out he was actually Shen Xuanyi’s direct subordinate.

Anyone Shen Xuanyi allowed to stay by his side was certainly not a nobody.

But Chu Chenli had no desire to investigate. When it came to things requiring thought, he usually tended to just dump them on Shen Xuanyi without a second thought; all he needed to do was follow orders.

“Shen—” Chu Chenli started, but was cut off by the other.

“Ah, sorry, give me a second, I need to find my glasses…” The prematurely gray young man turned around, squinting as he bent over and fumbled around on the floor and bed, completely unconcerned about exposing his undignified posture to a stranger.

“…” Chu Chenli was silent for a moment, then reminded him, “They’re on the cabinet to your left.”

The young man felt around to his left and finally touched the glasses frame. He hurriedly grabbed them and put them on, saying, “Thanks, thanks.”

He adjusted his glasses and turned around. With his vision clear, he was finally able to stand properly in front of Chu Chenli.

The two of them stared at each other for a moment, until finally, the prematurely gray one gave an awkward smile. “Hello, I’m Luo Yunshu. You must be Chu Chenli, President Shen’s friend—uh, about what just happened, please forget it.”

He added that last part quietly.

Chu Chenli nodded silently, withdrawing his scrutinizing gaze.

“President Shen?” He was only slightly curious about that title.

“It’s the president of the recently established ‘Psychic Researcher Association.’” Luo Yunshu pushed up his glasses and explained. “Since the president just woke up not long ago, suddenly dropping him into the highest existing position would cause dissatisfaction, so we’re taking it step by step. But this association will eventually become the highest-level combat department, and the current base chairman is also helping the president build and perfect it…”

Chu Chenli was a bit surprised, though not by the content.

He looked Luo Yunshu up and down slightly hesitantly. “This should be classified, right?”

Was it really okay to just spill it out to him like that?

Luo Yunshu stopped his flow of words and replied, “If it’s the president’s friend, then no problem. The president already told me there’s nothing that needs to be particularly hidden if those friends come to ask.”

Apparently, he knew quite a bit of inside information.

Chu Chenli nodded to show he understood, memorizing his face, and then reminded him, “Your president is looking for you. He has a meeting with the base administrator around 7:30, so you need to prepare.”

Luo Yunshu quickly noted that down.

Before leaving, he scribbled something quickly in his little notebook, tore out the page, and handed it to Chu Chenli.

“This is my contact info. After you get back to Central Base, if you need anything, feel free to contact me anytime.”

On the slip of paper was a string of cryptic symbols. Chu Chenli hadn’t gotten used to this era’s communication methods yet, so he could only take note of it for now.

He stared at the back of Luo Yunshu’s head until he disappeared around the corner, then turned around—and immediately bumped into Mu Yanshen, who was standing at the turn.

But Chu Chenli knew he had been standing there for quite a while.

“Team leader found us a guide.” Chu Chenli ignored Mu Yanshen’s aggrieved expression and casually stuffed the sticky note into his hand. “Seems like a decent guy.”

“No wonder I couldn’t hear anything.” Mu Yanshen glanced at the note and shoved it into his pocket. “That alone means he’s not a pushover.”

Once someone was on guard, it became hard for him to casually read their thoughts.

If he really wanted to find out, it wasn’t difficult. Through physical contact, eye contact, or simply hypnotizing and controlling the brain, he could do a deep dive. It was like switching from a loudspeaker to needing earphones to pick up the sound.

But Mu Yanshen wasn’t bored enough to insist on reading everyone’s minds.

Only his teammates knew about his “mind-reading” ability. For a stranger to be on guard in advance could only be due to a warning from Shen Xuanyi. While it might be a little petty way to annoy Mu Yanshen, there was no way Shen Xuanyi would arrange someone with ill intentions to interact with them.

On this point, he trusted Shen Xuanyi quite a bit.

Still, the targeted wariness did piss him off a little.

“Did the team leader call you for something?” Mu Yanshen changed the subject.

“Mainly about future missions,” Chu Chenli replied. “If we follow the leader to Central Base, it’s almost impossible for us to team up like before.”

In simple terms, it was to prevent resource waste.

The few of them had truly experienced ten years of life-or-death battles. They had fought their way through, gaining ample combat experience. Even the ones they internally recognized as the weakest could easily beat the vast majority of people in the current world.

Putting aside the future, where the mutants might evolve to a new level, in terms of current combat power comparison, the few of them forming another small team would definitely be an overflow of combat power.

Moreover, Central Base’s research department predicted that in the coming period, there would be a peak of new psychic abilities awakening among the current human population. They, who had honed their skills in the game, would be the best instructors.

The world was vast, the mutants seemed endless and constantly evolving. The more and stronger the combatants among humanity, the more people might survive.

Relying on one person fighting alone was absolutely impossible.

“Team leader wants you to train newbies?” Mu Yanshen asked.

Chu Chenli shook his head. Contrary to expectation, he said, “I’m not really suited for training newbies.”

Mu Yanshen recalled the sparring sessions between Chu Chenli and their teammates in the game and fell silent.

Chu Chenli wasn’t someone who used excessive force from the start. Even when suppressing his strength and only using fists and feet, few could match him. He had never used his ability on his teammates.

But later, they discovered a bug in the game: every time they entered a new level, they would be automatically refreshed and restored. Even if they lost limbs, as long as they still had a breath, they’d be fully recovered.

For a while, the enemies they faced were terrifyingly strong. Chu Chenli and the naturally gifted ones like Siyue barely managed to cope, while the others could only describe their survival as a narrow escape. More than a few had died right there.

The survivors realized their own lack of strength. The team leader discussed it with the others and quickly approved a new training plan.

In short, it was literally “train to the point of death, and then some.”

During levels with less survival pressure, Chu Chenli and the other combat power ceilings became emotionless training machines, exploiting the game bug with notable results.

Although such training hadn’t lasted very long, it had left quite a psychological shadow on the teammates.

After that, while in-team training wasn’t completely canceled, the teammates had significantly improved. For Chu Chenli to readjust to the reality that modern newbies could actually die if pushed too far wasn’t easy.

“So he wants you to lead newbies on field missions?” Many thoughts raced through Mu Yanshen’s mind.

“He said I could choose for myself,” Chu Chenli said. “Some particularly dangerous places aren’t suitable for newbies, but the research institute really needs samples and data from those locations for their studies.”

In such cases, Chu Chenli and people like Siyue were naturally the best candidates.

“But the team leader thinks one person alone might struggle with unexpected situations, so it’s best to choose a partner to work together.”

Mu Yanshen’s ears perked up at that. He immediately turned his head, staring at Chu Chenli with eyes as bright as a hundred-watt lightbulb, his entire being screaming two big words—

“Pick me.”