Chapter Twelve: On the Road

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Time: 11:15 p.m.
Location: Shentai District, Klinlin Street.

Although the residents of Baimen District regard Shentai District with fear and treat it like a raging beast, and jokes about Shentai District constantly circulate on local networks, the reality differs somewhat from the sensational news reports.

After all, this is still a legitimate part of Paloser City; it can’t be a completely naked Darwinian society—even gangs wouldn’t want to witness such chaos.

Excluding a few dangerous areas, most of Shentai District resembles an ordinary, old urban neighborhood.

There is, to some extent, a semblance of order.

Not much, but it exists.

Of course, Paloser’s Security Bureau has very few people willing to come here, so don’t expect much when it comes to reporting crimes...

Song Shi tightened his gray coat, wrapping himself up.

He had bought the coat at a twenty-four-hour unmanned retail store.

Whenever a customer entered, the autonomous weapons mounted on the ceiling rails would immediately target them, ensuring no one tried to shoplift or sleep overnight in the store—after two warnings, they could open fire.

According to the Paloser Self-Defense and Security Regulations, such cases fall under self-defense, so firing and causing casualties does not violate the law.

Oh, except for one penalty.

The Cityscape Protection and Management Ordinance imposes a fine of one thousand credit points for each death, three thousand for two, and a 10% discount if more than ten people die.

Song Shi walked slowly down the street.

It was difficult to see the sun in Shentai District.

Unlike Baimen District’s “artificial canopy” that manipulates natural climate with technology, here the sky was obscured by a dense tangle of black wiring, like a spiderweb that blocked out the stars.

It was 11 p.m.

Because of the lack of lighting, the street appeared dim and lethargic.

Thick layers of overlapping graffiti cluttered many walls. In some dark corners, people lay sprawled awkwardly beside piles of cheap canned alcohol emitting a pungent stench.

Others, wrapped tightly in thick coats faded beyond recognition, sat leaning against walls like meditating monks—except their heads were equipped with immersive network goggles or helmets connecting them to cyberspace.

The dazzling, colorful virtual world allowed them to forget all their troubles.

These people chose not to rent homes; aside from necessary nutritional supplements, all their earnings were poured into monthly subscriptions for various network services—immersive high-fidelity live streams, beloved virtual idols and streamers, carefully crafted and emotionally gripping but costly shows, and grand online games...

Song Shi drew back his gaze.

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He clearly noticed that some people’s sleeves were empty.

In an age where implant prosthetics are highly advanced, this was almost impossible.

Even if they couldn’t afford custom-made high-end prosthetics, a simple, inexpensive mechanical limb could be had secondhand from underground clinics for only five hundred credit points.

On the streaming platform Valhalla, a regular VIP pass to a single streamer costs four hundred credit points.

There was only one explanation.

These people had consciously abandoned prosthetic implants. They devoted themselves entirely to the network, indulging in the strange and wondrous experiences before their subscriptions expired.

Until one day, when their bodies could no longer endure, or they were accidentally run over by a passing vehicle, or for some other reason, their lives truly came to an end.

Perhaps they did not regret it.

“I need to find a place to stay first.”

Song Shi reserved judgment on such matters. He respected others’ choices as long as they didn’t block his path.

At the moment, after everything he had been through tonight, even Song Shi felt a bit weary and needed to find somewhere to rest.

The Romond Welfare Institute was definitely not an option.

Song Shi had moved out two months ago, right after coming of age. He rented a cheap room on his own and worked under the table at a vehicle factory, earning 1,500 credit points a month with two meals a day.

He would have to return to his cheap rental soon, but not for long.

To become a “volunteer,” Song Shi had handed over all his personal information to the research institute. They must know his address. Having caused such significant damage, this would never end easily. His original residence would sooner or later come under surveillance, a trap waiting to be sprung.

“I’ll go back for a little while, then find a place outside.”

Song Shi quickly made up his mind.

His original home was on Changdou Street, not far from Klinlin Street—about a thirty-minute walk... Honestly, Song Shi wasn’t even sure if “original” was the right term.

Unlike the Way of the Great Source, which controls the power of the Great Source, the Way of Consensus specializes in delving into the spiritual world, manipulating others’ minds, and even affecting reality through mental influence.

Because of this, a third-ring psychic of the Consensus path could attempt “host takeover”—seizing control of another person’s body.

Though it came with issues like “soul wear” and “personality contamination,” it was undoubtedly a powerful skill comparable to a second life.

Fourth-ring practitioners of Consensus were even more formidable on this basis.

In his former life, Song Shi had killed one of them.

Even with another fourth-ring Consensus psychic helping to “limit the scope of the takeover” and “locate the target,” Song Shi had spent most of a day killing eighty-seven takeover targets in one go before finally catching the enemy, whose soul was worn down from repeated takeovers.

But he himself followed the Way of the Great Source.

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In terms of direct combat ability, only the Way of Transcendence could compare. At the peak of the fourth ring, Song Shi unleashed his full firepower and could single-handedly break through a mechanized legion. His psychic flames spread like a storm; he could even go toe-to-toe with an orbital carrier without losing ground.

But he would never resort to “host takeover.”

Not just takeover—things like “reincarnation,” “personality overwrite,” or “self-state data backup and replacement”—Song Shi was certain he would never use any related psychic skills.

The Way of the Great Source simply wasn’t meant for that.

Yet his current situation was even stranger than a takeover!

His current “original body.”

It bore the exact same name, Song Shi, and even looked almost identical. Apart from different experiences, they were like two people in a mirror—a statistical impossibility.

Song Shi had even seriously considered the “brain in a vat” scenario—removing the brain and placing it in a culture dish, simulating all sensory and cognitive experiences to create a “real illusion.” A terrifying technology that defied verification even if the subject was suspicious.

After all, when all your senses and cognition have been manipulated by others, how can you discern truth from illusion?

But Song Shi dismissed this idea.

At the fourth ring, a psychic’s soul had already transcended the mundane; altering and simulating cognition would become exponentially more difficult.

Besides, Song Shi vividly remembered how he died: his entire body consumed by flames, leaving no trace of his brain.

After assassinating the Elector, he had fled for seven days until the final scene.

When the Imperial forces of the Vanpusta Empire sealed off the sky and land within a thirty-mile radius, completely surrounding Song Shi, the outcome was already decided.

Song Shi was certain he would die that day.

But what followed was not the siege he had imagined.

Only one person silently broke the blockade—the senior knights of the Order and the judges of the Tribunal kept their positions.

A fourth-ring psychic just like himself, equally gifted, a genius whom even the past Song Shi had heard of—a rising leader of the Vanpusta Empire, the newly appointed Grand Judge, Renata Clemens.

She intended to use Song Shi as a stepping stone, engaging in a deadly duel to glimpse the realm of fifth-ring psychics!

However, barring the unexpected, she would likely die too. Song Shi’s final strike was unparalleled; there was no reason she could survive. If she wanted to use him as a stepping stone, they would die together...

“Isotope?”

The thought crossed Song Shi’s mind again, but he quickly suppressed it.

He had arrived at his home on Changdou Street.