Chapter 60#

Wandering Photo 06#

Mu Yanshen initially didn’t take He Ziyue’s words to heart.

The others still didn’t know about Chen Chenli’s past. During the game, they treated each other with respect and consideration. After returning to reality, everyone had their own matters to attend to, and there was no need to burden the team with things long past.

Only Mu Yanshen was different.

As for what was different, none of them had yet thought about it deeply.

During the breaks between missions, Chen Chenli started frequently going to the urban area. After the others gradually lost interest in wandering around, he would go alone, leaving early and returning late.

He didn’t hide the reason for going to the city from the others.

One was for the new “apprentice” he had taken on, and the other was to help with the investigation into the smuggled stones.

However, the latter was already being handled by a specialized investigation team, so Chen Chenli’s main task remained the former.

At first, Mu Yanshen was curious and followed Chen Chenli a few times to see the boy named Tang Beihe.

He wasn’t particularly handsome or ugly, with a slightly thin build, but he looked sturdier than Xiao Bai. After trailing behind Chen Chenli for a while, the boy had noticeably become more cheerful and spirited.

But—no matter how you looked at it, he was just an ordinary, unremarkable teenager.

He wasn’t even as memorable as Luo Yunshu’s black-and-white hair.

If one day Tang Beihe died in some corner, perhaps no one would remember him anymore.

Speaking of “death” always evokes a sense of melancholy.

Mu Yanshen had gradually come to understand the weight of this word. Knowing the boy’s fate in advance, he had adopted a more forgiving attitude toward him from the start.

But perhaps it was due to He Ziyue’s nonsense that Mu Yanshen began re-examining their relationship. Only then did he suddenly realize that Chen Chenli seemed to care far too much about that boy.

Not only did he rush to the city during breaks, but Xiao Bai had also become something of an “experiment.”

Chen Chenli claimed he was helping Shen Xuanyi with the training tasks, while also adjusting the intensity and pace based on Xiao Bai’s feedback.

Xiao Bai was the weakest among the veterans, but he had survived the alien swarm. Considering his physique and talent, the two currently undergoing training were essentially evenly matched.

After analyzing this chain of actions, Mu Yanshen couldn’t help but feel a bit of pity and sympathy for Xiao Bai.

But knowing Xiao Bai’s personality, even if he learned the “truth,” he probably wouldn’t mind.

Only Mu Yanshen grew inexplicably more fixated.

That wasn’t good.

Mu Yanshen began to wonder if he had been too idle lately.

They did receive a few more reconnaissance missions afterward, and of course, Mu Yanshen and Chen Chenli were paired up. But those missions went smoothly, without the peril of their first assignment, and the longest one lasted only ten days before they returned to base.

After that came another long vacation.

But the last mission was so uneventful it felt like a sightseeing trip. They returned in even better spirits than before, a stark contrast to Hua Jin’s heavy dark circles when they ran into her.

Hua Jin, jealous and resentful, conducted their routine check-ups. They were perfectly healthy.

They didn’t actually need any extra rest time.

But Shen Xuanyi just didn’t want to put too much pressure on the team, ignoring all of Mu Yanshen’s hints—both visual and verbal.

In short, Mu Yanshen had been very idle lately.

Especially in contrast to Chen Chenli’s “full” schedule.

One day during the break, Chen Chenli suddenly realized something. Standing at the door of his room after greeting Mu Yanshen, instead of turning away, he stopped and asked, “Do you want to come with me?”

“Where?” Mu Yanshen asked, feeling it was unnecessary.

“To see Xiao Tang,” Chen Chenli replied.

Of course.

A nerve twitched in Mu Yanshen’s mind.

Chen Chenli sensed his reluctance. “Then you—”

“I’m going!” Mu Yanshen answered without hesitation.

…

When Mu Yanshen followed Chen Chenli and saw Tang Beihe, he felt he had been overthinking.

Tang Beihe greeted him earnestly and didn’t think much of it.

He didn’t have the time to overthink anyway.

Chen Chenli seemed gifted and self-taught, but as he guided the newcomer step by step, he gradually developed a systematic approach.

Starting with basic training, Tang Beihe was already exhausted.

Repeating the same monotonous moves hundreds or thousands of times, he muttered a few complaints but followed through without objection. Even Mu Yanshen, watching from the side, doubted whether this was effective.

Chen Chenli gently patted his head and said with a hint of affection, “Otherwise, how do you think I got through my childhood?”

He wasn’t born this strong.

His strength was a gift, but his combat skills were the result of rigorous training from a young age. What he lacked was real combat experience.

During the year of wandering after the disaster, he quickly filled that gap.

As for the other teammates in the game, they were constantly walking the line between life and death. Their life-or-death training methods led to rapid progress, but they clearly weren’t suitable for ordinary people in the real world.

Mu Yanshen sat beside Chen Chenli, watching for a while, then asked, “Do you think this can change that future?”

Chen Chenli: “I don’t know.”

Mu Yanshen turned, surprised. “I thought you were confident…”

Chen Chenli stared into the distance. “Because before this, everything I’ve seen has come true before me, but most of it was only about meeting people.”

For him, that was a good thing—no need to avoid or change it.

As for the other major regrets and tragedies, they had nothing to do with him, and he couldn’t intervene to change them—like the disaster itself or the broken game mechanics that led to deaths.

Tang Beihe was almost the only one whose death he had foreseen before it happened.

Mu Yanshen muttered to himself, “So something happened in the further future that you absolutely couldn’t accept?”

Chen Chenli said, “Yes.”

Mu Yanshen asked, “Something even harder to accept than the disaster or the death of comrades?”

Chen Chenli said, “Yes.”

But he had never truly explained the reason for this question.

It was unspeakable, and it stirred endless unease.

So Chen Chenli couldn’t help but sigh—he really shouldn’t have told him about these things in the first place.

“But sharing the burden might make it lighter.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Chen Chenli turned to look at Tang Beihe, but before he finished speaking, his smile froze on his face.

He stood up abruptly and shouted at Tang Beihe, “Get down!”

Tang Beihe’s legs gave way, and the strength he had been holding onto with sheer will instantly drained. He fell clumsily to the ground.

Before he could look up to ask what was wrong, he felt a sharp, icy wind sweep above his head.

Tang Beihe shivered and tucked his neck in, only to hear the sound of something hard colliding behind him.

A thin icicle hit the wall, shattering into two pieces that fell to the ground, leaving a clear dent on the wall. The transparent shards quickly melted into a puddle under the light.

One piece rolled all the way to Tang Beihe’s feet before stopping.

If he hadn’t dropped down, that icicle would have pierced his heart.

A monitor hidden in a corner of the wall let out a sharp alarm.

Tang Beihe was startled, completely unaware that ice crystals were slowly forming in the air in an empty corner, rapidly extending from thumb-sized lumps into long spikes, once again aimed at his head.

The next second, three icicles shot out like arrows from a bowstring.

“A’Li!”

One icicle crashed against a pitch-black blade. Chen Chenli grabbed Tang Beihe by the back of his collar and pulled him out of the attack range.

But the surrounding temperature dropped sharply and unnaturally.

Mu Yanshen’s eyes darkened, locking onto a direction in the shadows. A flash of ferocity passed through his gaze. “Get the hell out here!”

Red flames erupted in the air, but they were as brief as fireworks, leaving only a ring of rising steam around Chen Chenli and Tang Beihe.

Tang Beihe, still on the ground, widened his eyes. Before he could speak, he saw a young man staggering out from the corner.

The man clutched his throat, his face turning red, his expression twisted.

Just before he suffocated, he suddenly let go and collapsed from oxygen deprivation and dizziness.

Chen Chenli looked up at Mu Yanshen, still standing in place. Those golden eyes gradually returned to normal.

Mu Yanshen smiled at him, then walked over, asking with concern, “Are you two okay?”

As he passed by the fallen young man, the latter struggled to reach out, as if trying to grab something in the air. Mu Yanshen stepped on his hand.

“Ah—” The man screamed.

“Too noisy.” Mu Yanshen rubbed his ear, glanced down at him, and complained, “Can’t you be a little quieter?”

The man suddenly fell silent, as if his neck had been snapped, his body trembling slightly in struggle.

Tang Beihe accidentally met their gaze and flinched in terror.

Chen Chenli turned to look at him and asked, “Are you hurt?”

The familiar face, concerned expression, gentle voice… Tang Beihe was somewhat comforted, slowly calming down. He shook his head with difficulty. “No, no. I’m fine.”

His dry throat ached, and he swallowed before adding, “Th-thank you…”

The attacker was already on the ground, but Chen Chenli still stood in front of Tang Beihe, shielding him completely like a protector.

This attacker was clearly a novice, so Chen Chenli shouldn’t have been this tense.

Mu Yanshen’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze sliding from Chen Chenli to Tang Beihe’s face—was it really just pure concern for a boy he had just met?

For a moment, he wavered.

Chen Chenli wasn’t the type to offer emotional comfort or motivational speeches.

On the contrary, he was essentially a pragmatic person who was somewhat pessimistic. When facing despair, he would find his own way out or rely on teammates for help, but he never became suddenly optimistic just because of encouragement or others’ stories.

In other words, Chen Chenli was hard to motivate.

But he was so strong that he rarely encountered truly hopeless situations, and he almost never fell into despair. He had always embodied the principle of “keeping a calm mind.”

—Considering his precognitive ability, this exceptional mindset wasn’t hard to understand.

The visions came from his own perspective. Since he could still see the further future, it meant he was far from true despair.

Under the blind trust of his teammates, they easily overlooked the contradictions behind this.

Mu Yanshen had almost forgotten to think deeply.

Saving the life of this boy, fated to die—proving that the future could change—what then?

After proving it, what could he do?

Or rather, who was he trying to prove it to?