Chapter 111

“What’s wrong?” A familiar voice sounded by his ear. Horne turned back and only then saw that Hels had arrived at some point.

“Nothing.” Horne regained his composure. He looked once more at the screen that seemed to distort space and asked again, “Are you sure it’s here?”

“Yes.” Jia Lan’s response was immediate and unwavering.

On Earth, no other place could distort magnetic fields and light to form a frequency field independent of physical laws.

The surveillance view slid back from the elevator along the corridor—a long, twisting hallway that led to a door glowing with an eerie green hue at the end. Every frame seemed to draw something out thread by thread from the depths of Horne’s memories.

The recon drone had not entered that room. No one else had yet seen the true form of the fate community. It turned back, returned to the elevator, while that door deep inside remained tightly shut.

Horne heard his own heartbeat resonating with the flickering green light.

His hibernation pod was in the Tower. That was already unbelievable enough. Now he was being told that his hibernation pod was at the location of the fate community?

Moreover…

“Didn’t you say last time that once you enter a certain range of it, people in sync with its frequency see it in its true form, while those out of sync see it as something entirely different?” Horne asked. His voice was tight, sounding like his usual cold indifference, but Hels detected the emotional fluctuation within.

“Yes.”

“So its true form should be this hallway, with a room at one end and an elevator at the other.”

“Yes.”

Horne found a seat in the corner. Hels followed. The people in front formed a wall, all staring at the screen.

“Uncomfortable?” Hels asked with some concern. He squatted down in front of Horne, took his hand—ice-cold, with a faint tremble—but Horne showed no abnormality on the surface.

“Yeah,” Horne paused. “Can you come to my room later?”

But Hels smiled and asked, “Not avoiding me anymore?”

“Something more important.”

The recon drone’s footage kept looping the corridor, never entering the room deep inside. Through its perspective, they could see the general true appearance of the area around the fate community location—or at least a general sense, since the light and space there kept changing, like a Rubik’s cube on the verge of falling apart but never quite doing so, sometimes contracting, sometimes expanding.

If the recon drone’s view was real, then everything he had seen when he escaped months ago was also real—that was its true form.

If Jia Lan was not lying or deliberately misleading them, then he was in sync with the fate community.

This realization made dense beads of sweat seep from Horne’s icy palm, and his back as well.

Hels frowned, traced a fingertip across Horne’s palm, smearing away a streak of sweat, and asked softly, “Go back first?”

Before Horne could answer, someone shouted, “It’s the Obelisk!”

Horne’s head snapped up almost in fright.

The recon drone, which had been circling near the fate community, had wandered to the Obelisk, then was quickly swallowed up by it. The screen patrolled the center of the plaza once, then was swallowed again, returning to the elevator and then the long corridor.

“So it’s the Obelisk,” You Wenjie murmured. “We’ve always thought that was the trigger point for the illusion. If we don’t interfere with the Obelisk’s frequency, it itself might be the entrance to the fate community?”

Homan was at the front. He let out a long breath, as if expelling all his unease and tension. Staring at the screen, he muttered to himself, “Finally, finally.”

You Wenjie stood under the central monitor at the front, his brows tightly furrowed. Soon, he turned around and said seriously, “Meeting now!”

They needed to prepare for the upcoming destruction.

His voice echoed twice in the quiet room. You Wenjie strode out of the control room, followed by some others.

Horne remained silent at the back. Not only were his hands ice-cold, but a vein throbbed at his brow as well. As most people left, he stayed put, still thinking about what Jia Lan had said earlier—only the Hermit could successfully enter the fate community location.

The frequency capture net in the Hertz Resonance Room was still running, interwoven with chaotic frequencies, but that one purest, most serene frequency had never appeared on it.

“Are you sure only the Hermit can enter here and see its true form?” Horne’s icy voice rang out from behind.

Water splashed “whoosh” nonstop, filling the tiny bathroom space with noise that amplified layer by layer in the air, bringing restlessness and unease.

Blood from his wrist dripped down his skin, mixing with the tap water and flowing into the drain. Horne stared at his slashed wrist in silence, his mind still echoing with the final clash between him and Jia Lan in the tech area moments ago.

Jia Lan had been about to leave but stopped to answer, very certain: “Yes. This isn’t a small matter. Being in sync with the fate community is a symbol of wisdom. In our kind, it commands absolute prestige. I’m certain that aside from the Hermit, no lifeform on Earth belongs to the 440 Hz frequency.”

The wound showed no signs of healing in the short term—at least not visibly. Horne lifted his wrist, watched for a moment; even the bleeding didn’t coagulate on its own. He rinsed the blood clean to observe the wound more closely.

His heartbeat raced, accompanied by waves of nausea.

“Have you seen it?” Horne’s suppressed voice echoed in the control room. The remaining people fell silent; some sensed the off atmosphere and hurried away.

Jia Lan’s answer was as expected: “No, it hasn’t appeared in a long time. The last I heard was a hundred years ago, and then… uh, no more… news.”

It trailed off, the last words almost vanishing, because Horne suddenly closed in, forcing it back step by step, waves surging in his eyes like a stormy sea.

“Horne,” Hels blocked him, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

Horne ignored him completely. He stared only at Jia Lan, his eyes congealing into icy knives, and asked word by word, “Let me confirm once more: aside from the Hermit, no one else can enter? And the Hermit last appeared a hundred years ago?”

“Bang!” A fist slammed against the sink edge. The wound tore open further. Horne thought the initial cut too small for observation, but the rip made him draw in a sharp breath from the pain. He raised his hand, holding the wound under the stark white light as fresh blood quickly seeped out.

He couldn’t think of a better way to verify for now, but the more he tried, the more a chill crawled over his entire body, like being swarmed by countless fuzzy caterpillars slithering up from his ankles, into his pant legs.

A hundred years ago, 2110, the year of the unexpected incident at the Control Tower.

Since he had survived two fatal wounds and recovered quickly, this minor injury should heal completely within a day. He wanted to observe it nonstop, but the more he focused, the more Jia Lan’s voice lingered inescapably.

“I’m certain. But two months ago, the Frequency Detector in the Hermit Lab lit up to 440 Hz. It must have returned, though no one saw it that day.”

“Two months ago? Frequency Detector?” Horne keenly latched onto those keywords. It still felt familiar, but he should have already awakened by then, in Loch City. If the Hermit had returned, it probably wasn’t him.

He breathed a slight sigh of relief, thinking he was overthinking it. But Jia Lan’s next words made his eased heart clench tight again.

“Yeah, that night in the middle of the night, there seemed to be an intruder in the Tower. The guards all went to catch them, so no one paid attention to where the Hermit was.”

Horne rinsed the seeping blood again. His dark gaze never focused.

He remembered now. He’d always felt these terms were familiar, as if heard somewhere, until Jia Lan mentioned the recent Tower intrusion—then it hit him where he’d heard that name. It was when he’d infiltrated the Tower District alone via the drainage system, overhearing it below the drainage net.

He remembered the incident because the speaker’s voice had been familiar—though he couldn’t recall the timbre now, the sense of familiarity and the content stuck.

Later, he’d passed that place thick with the smell of potions—likely the Hermit Lab he’d seen in the surveillance today. He’d heard a similar fluctuating voice then, with information like…

Horne tried hard to recall the scene.

Identity confirmed as Hermit, frequency 440 Hz, and one crucial piece: next return in 2144 hours.

But when he’d infiltrated the Tower District, the countdown on the Obelisk was 2168.

Horne felt a palpitation. The Hermit seemed to have preset its exact appearance time. The previous one was right as he’d approached the lab’s iron net. Per its own preset, the next—

On the last day before the Aliens’ kin arrived, the Hermit would appear in its lab.

Suppose, suppose it was the reason he least wanted to accept—how had the Hermit known and precisely predicted that night two months ago, down to the second? He’d taken one step forward, and the Frequency Detector triggered, broadcasting that message.

Continuing on that logic, how could the Hermit predict that he would return to its lab on the final day before arrival? What if he went tomorrow?

A chill rose from the depths of his heart.

Lost in thought, Horne didn’t notice the blood trickling from his wrist again, forming an unbroken red line across the white sink. Until Hels’s voice exploded from behind: “What are you doing?”

Horne snapped back to awareness. Hels strode in, his face changing the instant he saw the blood. He immediately grabbed hemostatic bandages and alcohol, pressed Horne’s hand down.

“What is this supposed to be?” Hels was somewhat angry, but facing Horne’s furrowed brow and the bleeding wrist, his tone softened. “Does it hurt?” He wrapped Horne’s wrist gently with both hands, then held it against his own chest.

Horne had no mind to answer. Once Hels finished bandaging, he turned and walked to the living room.

“I’ve been to that place,” he said directly.