Chapter 59#
Gears of Fate 01#
The night wind blew. The air around was filled with the scent of dust and copper rust, and the sky was heavy with thick fog.
“Phew—” Bai Song let out a long breath, no longer squirming like a maggot.
Yu Feichen also adjusted his breathing and heartbeat. The gods of the Paradise were indeed different from ordinary people; just now, the God of Time’s so-called “Arrow of Truth” was almost the most powerful attack he had ever seen. When his heart was targeted by the long arrow, he had a sensation—that everything about him would be annihilated along with this burning rocket, disappearing from this world without a single speck of dust remaining.
And at the moment he gripped the arrow shaft, under the immense impact, all the memories of this life appeared before his eyes simultaneously.
“Brother Yu, how did drawing a card almost cost a life?”
“Because a bad thing was predicted,” Yu Feichen replied.
Bai Song: “The prophecy said you would turn bad?”
It wasn’t because of that. When he drew the Tyrant card, the God of Time made no reaction and even provided a sincere warning. Things changed with the third card; Morphy said it was a “meaningless prophecy,” but that was clearly not the case. At that time, his state had already become abnormal, as he struggled against the restriction of “must not lie.”
As for that divination: “You will tread on the road paved with his blood,” it meant he would harm someone in the future… someone very important to the Paradise. The gods of the Paradise do not allow the existence of those who endanger the Paradise, so they decided to execute him in advance with the Arrow of Truth.
This time, the Gate of Eternal Night happened to open, and he escaped the pursuit, but it might not be the same next time.
Bai Song also raised the same question, fearing that the next time they returned to the Paradise, they would be besieged and killed by the gods.
Yu Feichen comforted him slightly with words. After all, according to the face of the card, he would have to go through the so-called “Tyrant” phase before completely falling into the pitch-black darkness; he wouldn’t die at this time.
As for whether the God of Time’s prophecy was correct or not… he remained skeptical, because he believed he excelled at self-control and had no potential for being a “Tyrant,” let alone becoming that crazy and chaotic pitch-black object. However, if he could witness himself falling into an inescapable quagmire—this made Yu Feichen feel that the future still had some hope and was worth treating properly.
If impossible things were to happen one after another in his fate, it would be better than being as motionless as a stagnant pool. He occasionally felt he was truly like a lifeless object.
Bai Song looked at Yu Feichen suspiciously, confirming that it wasn’t his illusion—why did such a big thing happen, yet his Brother Yu looked relaxed and happy? There was even a hint of “watching a spectacle and wishing for more chaos” in that emotion.
Pulling back his thoughts, Yu Feichen scanned the surrounding environment.
The smell of metal, he hadn’t smelled it wrong. Under the overcast sky, he could vaguely see a towering giant city in the distance, while in front of them was a huge hemispherical metal fortress. The outer walls of the fortress were made of brass and silver-iron, and through the damaged parts of the outer walls, precision-meshed transmission gears could be seen. The rhythmic mechanical clicking sounded like an ocean. To the right rear of the fortress, a square chimney sent black smoke into the air.
There were already a few people in front of them.
Yu Feichen led Bai Song forward. Suddenly, he stopped, looked down at his clothes, and then extended his palm.
He was wearing a deep brown cloak-style robe, with a white shirt and a leather vest inside—but that wasn’t the point. The point was that his age was several years younger. These were the hands that only a seventeen or eighteen-year-old youth would have, not yet fully developed. No wonder he felt his field of vision was slightly lower.
However, even if his frame was a size smaller than his adult state, he was still considered quite excellent among his peers.
“You finally noticed, Brother Yu.” Bai Song said: “You’re so cool, and especially cute, really. Last time I wanted to know what you looked like when you were in school.”
Yu Feichen also sincerely evaluated Bai Song’s appearance: “You look like you haven’t even graduated from middle school.”
“Ha! Brother Yu can actually crack a joke!”
Speaking, they walked forward. A few people were already gathered in front. The girls wore deep chestnut knee-length puffy skirts with leather corsets, puff sleeves, and brass buttons, while the males wore similarly styled cloaks, vests, and short boots. The oldest among them appeared to be in their early twenties. Since their outward ages weren’t large, the companions this time looked much more delicate and handsome than in the previous world. And their faces were indeed filled with the confusion appropriate for their ages.
“More people are here!” The young man who looked about twenty waved to them: “How did you guys get here? Don’t you recognize what kind of ghost place this is either?”
Yu Feichen looked over. A total of eight people. Two of them looked as if they were in a daze, two were crying, and the other four were all looking at him with expectation—either eagerly hoping he could bring valuable information or clearly having the relief of “two more unlucky bastards” written on their faces. He made a preliminary judgment: this round was almost entirely newcomers.
“How long have you guys been here?”
“Not long, sigh.” The young man tugged at his shirt collar: “I was in the middle of a sprinting championship, damn, in a blink of an eye I almost crashed into that iron wall over there. It seems I must have been running faster than light before?”
The curly-haired girl who was crying said: “The teacher punished me by making me copy contract spells, and I haven’t finished yet…”
Another adult boy of eighteen or nineteen was muttering some chaotic words; they couldn’t understand them.
There was another person who was even stranger; he was walking in circles.
Bai Song: “What are you doing?”
The boy was polite, “Sorry, I had eight legs just now, and now I only have two. I’m very curious about this way of walking. It turns out one can walk in non-straight lines, quite nice.”
Bai Song: “My apologies, Mr. Crab.”
The young man asked them again: “How did you guys get here?”
Yu Feichen thought for a moment and didn’t hide anything: “I was being pursued before I came.”
The young man gave a thumbs-up: “Nice, brother, you’ve been saved.”
As they were speaking, another figure appeared from where they had come. It was a youth with very refined and elegant features. His black long hair was half-tied, and a cloak jacket hung on him, creating an unspeakable sense of discord with his entire being.
“This humble one is Ling Wei,” he gave a salute to the others, his tone carrying hesitation: “May I ask fellow Daoists… where is this place?”
With his expanded vocabulary, Bai Song looked around and murmured: “A sprinter, a spell copier, a mutterer, a crab-type, a cultivator, and an old cucumber painted with green paint… this pot of ingredients is way too rich.”
As for who the “old cucumber painted with green paint” referred to, Yu Feichen assumed Bai Song was talking about himself.
The young man named Chen Tong went to receive the small Daoist priest. After a long while, another young man with curly chestnut hair arrived. His face was gentle and handsome, but he didn’t say a word. His first action upon coming up was to scan everyone; he looked like an experienced hand.
There were twelve people now, but the fortress behind them showed no movement, not appearing to be the start of the plot. It seemed more people were yet to arrive.
The energetic young man Chen Tong said: “Should we look around?”
With that, he began to urge others.
Yu Feichen: “Wait longer, there’s still someone.”
The chestnut-haired young man glanced at him, his expression a bit cold.
Chen Tong: “Do you know what this ghost place is for?”
Just as the words fell, another figure appeared on the grayish rusted iron ground ahead. It was a youth of sixteen or seventeen, dressed like the others, with the ends of his pale gold long hair slightly curled. His temperament was cold, and he had a pair of frost-green eyes.
Thirteen people now. When he also walked over, the sound of gear transmission suddenly increased, and the brass gate in the center of the fortress slowly slid open. Several rows of steam smoke billowed from the holes on the gate. After the smoke dissipated, there was a double structure inside—a boiling water river guarded the central steel inner fortress, and a long metal suspension bridge connected the inner fortress to the outer wall.
Small propellers carrying copper tube speakers hovered in the air, and a sweet and cheerful broadcast voice came from the speakers.
“Welcome new students to the Alice Academy of Magic! Before queuing across the suspension bridge, please register your enrollment information and collect your school badge~”
Next to the end of the suspension bridge stood a dilapidated humanoid robot. The gears at its right arm were not meshing correctly, and while turning, it sprayed sparks. It held two trays, one with papyrus and the other piled with a dozen gear badges.
“Damn, how did we end up enrolling?” Chen Tong said, “I’ve escaped the sea of suffering for twenty years, please don’t.”
Responding to him was the sound of the outer fortress gate crashing down.
He looked at Yu Feichen as if for help: “Brother, what should we do?”
Yu Feichen patted Bai Song on the shoulder, and Bai Song briefly explained the concept of a “dungeon,” informing everyone that the only path now was to strive for escape, and they would face bizarre deaths.
Those people were stunned and hadn’t reacted yet. The brother who was “muttering” was still muttering excitedly. Logically, people from different language environments pulled into one world would spontaneously understand the language here, but—this brother’s original world’s language logic and even his entire thinking system might differ too much from here, making it impossible to convert fluently, resulting in only being able to say some fragmented words.
Yu Feichen filled out the form first. The form couldn’t even be called a form because there was only a name. He filled in a simple “Yu.” Bai Song followed suit and filled in “Bai.” The chestnut-haired young man filled in “Vincent.” For some reason, Yu Feichen felt that his hostile attitude toward him had deepened by another layer.
Next was the one who came last. He didn’t look at anyone, tucked his falling long hair behind his ear, picked up the quill, dipped it in ink, and pointed the tip at the paper, preparing to write something.
Yu Feichen suddenly whispered in his ear, word for word: “Anfield.”
—His tone was like instructing or forcing him to write this name.
The tip of the pen paused.
Yu Feichen saw this person look up at him, a cold and clear young face, slightly frowning, appearing vaguely angry.
As if asking: “Why?”
Yu Feichen only looked at that unusual tear mole under the person’s right eye.
I really don’t know.
Good things come in threes; meeting for the third consecutive time counts as a special friendship formed in the world fragments. Yu Feichen directly took the quill, ignoring the other’s expression. The youth’s appearance had greatly reduced lethality; even if he were angry, it wasn’t dangerous.
He dipped it in ink again and then wrote the name on the papyrus—just like that, he calmly set down “Anfield.” Actually, the name Ludwig wasn’t bad either, but compared to Anfield, it was slightly more common. He would call him that when he had the chance next time.
Bai Song seemed to think of something. His pupils shook violently as he looked at Yu Feichen, as if meeting him for the first time.
“Brother Yu, even if you… but… there’s still…” he murmured: “This, this isn’t quite appropriate, right…”