Chapter 67: I’m Not an Imposter
I seem to have a knack for falling upwards, Tang Yu’an thought.
Once again, he had become a celebrated hero, single-handedly defeating dozens of enemies.
From the others’ conversations, he gathered that the original owner of this face had been a hopeful recruit, sent on a suicide mission and killed.
The gang hadn’t cared about these recruits, using them as disposable pawns. If anyone survived, they were considered valuable assets.
Tang Yu’an was glad the original owner hadn’t made much of an impression; he didn’t even know his name.
The man with the bulbous nose led him around, introducing him to the others.
“Don’t let his silly name fool you, his knife is deadly!”
He also said he would take him to meet a “big shot” as a reward, a great opportunity for advancement.
But Tang Yu’an just wanted to know where the system had sent him.
So, he asked casually: “What year is it?”
The man laughed, pointing at him playfully: “Look, he’s so excited he forgot what year it is!”
He showed him the date on his wristband: “This is your lucky year.”
Tang Yu’an was startled. He was three years in the future!
He remembered the system’s words about a vacancy in the retirement worlds, sending him back to his last mission.
Only now did he truly feel the system’s absence.
Was he… finally free?
No more missions, no more discarding familiar identities?
His mind raced, he called out to the system silently, but there was no response. He still couldn’t believe it.
It was too sudden; he didn’t know what to do.
The man, assuming he was simply overwhelmed with excitement, started pouring him drinks.
Tang Yu’an played along, drinking two cups, his mind racing. What do I do now?
He had no money. His first thought was to return to the Bureau, but he immediately dismissed it.
Three years had passed; the system must have erased his memories from their minds. Suddenly appearing and claiming to be a former member, resurrected after death, would make him sound insane.
He felt a pang of sadness. Three years for them, less than a day for him, his former companions now strangers.
But he quickly recovered. A second chance at life was a blessing; he shouldn’t dwell on what was lost.
He had completed his mission; the protagonists would surely succeed. He wouldn’t disturb them.
He decided to find a planet with a low cost of living, somewhere he could be self-sufficient.
He avoided the main star; he didn’t want to encounter familiar faces, to reopen old wounds.
But his plan was thwarted. The man, assuming he had joined the gang, took him to their base, and he couldn’t leave, forced to maintain his disguise.
The next day, the man, true to his word, even took him to meet the “big shot,” telling him to make a good impression.
Tang Yu’an wanted to refuse, but afraid of arousing suspicion, he nodded stiffly.
They boarded a ship. The man said they were going to an island.
“Don’t act like you’ve never seen the world before, don’t embarrass me.”
Tang Yu’an nodded, his heart sinking. An island? He would be even more trapped.
After almost a day at sea, they arrived.
He followed the man and several others ashore, through a security gate that opened after they scanned their ID cards, revealing a modern corridor and warehouse.
To avoid attention, he kept his eyes forward, feigning indifference to the rows of advanced weapons on display.
Over a hundred people, all dressed in black, were gathered in the main hall. He was also wearing black, as instructed by the man before they left.
The crowd was murmuring when a large man approached, and silence fell.
This must be the “big shot,” Tang Yu’an thought, perhaps the gang leader.
The man stood on a platform, looking down at the crowd: “Shadows never fade!”
The crowd responded in unison: “Faith endures!”
The man with the bulbous nose shouted the loudest, almost bursting Tang Yu’an’s eardrums.
This wasn’t a gang; it was a cult.
He wanted to escape, but he was trapped.
Then, the man on the platform stepped aside, bowing his head respectfully.
There was someone even more powerful? Tang Yu’an watched as a figure emerged from the shadows, an aura of authority surrounding him.
After chanting the slogan three times, everyone bowed their heads, except for Tang Yu’an.
Not out of defiance, but out of disbelief.
Xie Cun? What was he doing here?
And although it was the same face, he seemed like a different person.
The usual frivolity was gone, replaced by a chilling intensity.
Anyone who saw him would know he was a killer.
There was a new scar on his face, a prominent mark, like a brand.
Tang Yu’an remembered Xie Cun’s vanity, his flamboyant attire.
But now he wore a simple black combat suit, his hair short and plain.
His gaze caught Xie Cun’s attention, who walked towards him, through the crowd.
“Have we met?”
Tang Yu’an froze, breaking out in a cold sweat.
According to the man, if Xie Cun didn’t recognize him, he would be killed.
So, he quickly said: “No… no, it’s just… you’re so… impressive, I was… awestruck.”
Flattery was always a good strategy.
But Xie Cun’s expression darkened, his eyes menacing, as if he wanted to tear him apart.
But the anger quickly faded, so quickly that Tang Yu’an almost thought he had imagined it.
Xie Cun hid his bleeding hand behind his back, his voice low: “What’s your name?”
“Tang… Tangyuan.”
Xie Cun’s eye twitched.
After a moment of silence, he turned and left, saying: “This one will work for me.”
Tang Yu’an didn’t know why he had been chosen, or what had happened to Xie Cun in the past three years, turning him into a cult leader.
He was taken to a private room. He waited for half an hour before Xie Cun arrived.
He didn’t know that Xie Cun had injected himself with a sedative before coming here, to prevent himself from losing control and killing him.
But even with the sedative, he couldn’t maintain his composure completely.
He dismissed his subordinates, locking the door behind them, like a hunter trapping his prey.
“There are no cameras here, no one will hear you scream.”
Tang Yu’an blinked, unsure of his intentions.
Xie Cun stepped closer: “So, I can dismember you, and no one will know.”
Tang Yu’an: “!”
Three years wasn’t that long, how had Xie Cun transformed from a frivolous playboy to a terrifying psychopath?
He could only ask what he had done to offend him.
Xie Cun sneered, as if looking at a clown: “Who sent you?”
Tang Yu’an was truly confused. Did this face have a criminal record? Did Xie Cun think he was a spy?
He opened his mouth, but no sound came out, still trying to come up with a lie.
Xie Cun continued to approach: “Nothing to say? Tell me, who modified your voice, gave you that ridiculous name? Tell me the truth, and I’ll spare your life.”
Tang Yu’an instantly realized – Xie Cun recognized his voice!
He felt a surge of excitement. Xie Cun… remembered him!
Xie Cun, seeing him suddenly smile, was about to lash out in anger, when the man before him wiped his forehead, and a face he thought he would never see again appeared.
So vivid, so… real.
Like a dream.
Tang Yu’an, knowing his sudden appearance might be frightening, seeing Xie Cun freeze, assumed he was scared.
So, he said apologetically: “Don’t… don’t be afraid, you’re not seeing a ghost, I’m… I’m not dead…”
Before he could finish, Xie Cun rushed forward, grabbing his face, pinching his cheeks hard.
What was this now?
Tang Yu’an, unable to resist, let him pinch him.
Xie Cun repeatedly checked his face, making sure there was no second mask.
But how… how was this possible?
He had clearly…
Just as Tang Yu’an thought he had accepted it, Xie Cun suddenly asked fiercely: “Who made you look like this?!”
Tang Yu’an: “…”
“I really am Tang Yu’an, not an imposter… Do you remember accidentally ripping my teddy bear and giving me a mountain of them as an apology? You were even wearing a teddy bear costume…”
To prove his identity, he recounted every detail he could remember, afraid of arousing suspicion.
Xie Cun listened silently.
After he finished, he remained frozen, as if in shock.
After a long pause, he suddenly cut his palm with a small knife, blood gushing out.
Tang Yu’an exclaimed in alarm: “What are you doing?!”
Xie Cun, seemingly oblivious to the pain, laughed, a strangely joyful sound.
“So it wasn’t a dream.”
He repeated: “It… wasn’t a dream.”
