Chapter 8: Forever Aunt Zhang

When Yang Huawi saw the pangolin lunging at him, he was startled and instinctively drew his M500. At the moment he pulled out the gun, Zhang Qingfang did something utterly shocking. She ripped off her white robe, leaving herself completely naked. Even though she was in a desperate state, she was still a woman, and Yang Huawi couldn't help but close his eyes.

At the same time, he heard Zhang Qingfang's raspy voice shouting, "Take my robe back to the lab for research. It's corrosion-resistant!"

Yang Huawi opened his eyes in shock to see Zhang Qingfang, now naked, throwing herself into the pangolin's mouth.

"Aunt Zhang—" Yang Huawi let out a heart-wrenching scream. He fired the M500 directly at the pangolin's sharp, triangular head. The pangolin, caught off guard by the powerful close-range five-shot burst, was sent reeling backwards, its massive body rolling and its mouth snapping shut.

"Aunt Zhang—, Aunt Zhang—!" Yang Huawi called out in anguish, quickly reloading the M500 and charging forward. The pangolin seemed to have something like the Monkey King's demon inside it, rolling violently on the ground, its body and tail thrashing against the floor. Dust and flames filled the air, making it impossible for Yang Huawi to approach.

For over an hour, Yang Huawi charged forward hundreds of times, only to be thrown back each time. His body was numb from pain, but he couldn't escape the emotional torment. After over an hour, the pangolin's convulsions finally started to weaken.

"Aunt Zhang—" Dragging his battered body, Yang Huawi finally reached the pangolin. The mutated pangolin lay still and motionless. Yang Huawi desperately turned the creature over, revealing a large area of scales near its stomach that had fallen off, oozing pus and blood. He used a knife to peel off more scales and slice open the pangolin's belly, but inside was just a mess of pus and blood. He clutched the robe that Zhang Qingfang had taken off, kneeling on the ground, unable to determine how much time passed as he wept.

"Yang Huawi, please report your condition to the base," came the base leader's voice through the communicator, finally bringing Yang Huawi back to his senses. He struggled to stand and hold the sensor.

"Yang Huawi is fine. I have no issues. However, Aunt Zhang Qingfang, who regained her sanity, sacrificed herself to save me, perishing along with the monster," Yang Huawi replied, his voice choked with emotion.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the sensor. After a while, the old director's heavy voice came through: "Comrade Zhang Qingfang sacrificed herself for the cause of science. Her spirit is forever immortal. History will remember her, and so will human civilization. Please leave the cave as soon as possible and do not let her sacrifice be in vain."

Upon hearing the response, Yang Huawi gathered himself, treated his wounds, and checked his weapons. The sniper rifle was corroded beyond recognition by the pangolin, and the military knife had been lost in the cave. Fortunately, he still had one micro submachine gun with a limited number of bullets.

He carefully folded Zhang Qingfang's last robe and put it in his bag. Determined, he continued onward. Since the pangolin had presumably eliminated all the monsters, Yang Huawi's remaining ammunition lasted throughout the final day's journey. He reached the cave exit and, after a scan, was finally brought out.

Yang Huawi emerged from the cave to find it filled with people, including the old director, his mother Fang Zilan, all the scientists from the research institute, the test team members led by the bearded captain, and the superiors who had sent him in, as well as his father, uncle, and the experimental soldiers.

He saluted everyone with military precision and respectfully presented Zhang Qingfang's robe. Stepping in front of the director and his mother, he said solemnly, "This is Aunt Zhang's final possession. I brought it back to you. This robe has corrosion-resistant properties," and handed the robe to the trembling hands of the old director.

After resting at the base and reporting the situation to the leaders, Yang Huawi informed them that both the biochemical madman and the pangolin had been eliminated, leaving no significant threats inside. The leaders and the bearded captain then decided to send the remaining people in for training. Yang Huawi was puzzled by the urgency of the decision.

"Why the rush to send everyone in?" Yang Huawi asked, seeing the bearded captain leave with his orders. The arrangement seemed too hasty.

"The fissure expanded suddenly the day after you entered. The monsters that came through were only barely repelled by international organizations. Complete eradication seems impossible. Given this situation, we contacted the Holy City, which will conduct the baptism this week. However, there are some issues with the baptism," the old director explained awkwardly, while Fang Zilan looked disapproving.

"What issues?" Yang Huawi asked impatiently, unable to tolerate the old director's hesitation.

"According to the Holy City, after the baptism, having two different mental entities could cause mental fragmentation. To fully undergo the transformation, our soldiers' own thoughts would have to be completely erased," the old director said hesitantly.

"All thoughts erased?" Yang Huawi repeated in shock, then jumped up and shouted, "That is absolutely unacceptable!"

Without one's own thoughts, a person would be reduced to an idiot. After being infused with the Holy City's memories, they would become an entirely different person from themselves, forgetting Earth, their own identity, their family, and their home. Yang Huawi couldn't agree to this, and he was sure neither the soldiers nor their families would agree. As for Fang Zilan, would she be able to watch her son become a stranger?

Seeing Yang Huawi's intense reaction, the two leaders sighed and said, "We also disagree with the Holy City's plan and have been discussing this issue over the past few days."

"I don't want to know how you've been discussing it. I just want to know the final solution," Yang Huawi cut them off impatiently.

Regardless of sacrifices made for human peace, as a soldier, Yang Huawi would never flinch at bloodshed or hardship. But turning oneself into a mindless robot was intolerable. This sentiment was not unique to Yang Huawi; Fang Zilan and the old director understood this as well.

"Ultimately, they have agreed to retain your memories but will seal them," the old director said.

"What does sealing memories mean?" Yang Huawi asked, feeling uneasy.

"Sealing memories means your personal memories will remain dormant. After the baptism and transformation, your thoughts will align with those of the Holy City's soldiers. But when the Holy City soldiers' memories fade, your own memories will return. At that point, you will no longer be a Holy City soldier or have the thoughts of a parallel space," another researcher explained.

"When will the Holy City's memories fade?" Yang Huawi pressed.

"One situation is the death of the Holy City soldiers' mental memory. Another is when the set time limit expires," Fang Zilan finally spoke up.

"What does 'death of mental memory' mean? And what is the set time limit?" Yang Huawi continued to question.

"The Holy City's set time limit is twenty years on Earth. In parallel spaces, the timing is the same as Earth's, but after crossing into a parallel realm, their twenty years will revert to our two years," the researcher explained.

The set time limit seemed reasonable, but the concept of mental memory death was harder to grasp. Seeing Yang Huawi deep in thought, Fang Zilan, as his mother, understood his concerns and explained gently: "The so-called death of mental memory is actually simple to understand. It means their mental thought processes will disappear. This disappearance can occur through natural electromagnetic decay, external interference, or being overridden by your own will. Hence, the set limit is twenty years, but it could be less or more depending on external factors and your own situation."

Yang Huawi was relieved by this explanation and asked, "How much will we remember about the parallel space once our memories return?"

"The Holy City does not know," Fang Zilan answered bluntly.

Going to a parallel space was meant to resolve their crisis. If the crisis was averted, remembering the suffering might be unnecessary. Perhaps forgetting everything would be better. Yang Huawi finally accepted the situation and asked, "When will we undergo the Holy City's baptism and transformation?"

"In four days," came the unanimous response, leaving Yang Huawi feeling resigned. It seemed everything was set in motion, and as a soldier, his duty was to follow orders unconditionally.