Officer Liu's Gambit

Should they tell him? 

Controlling human thoughts was impossible. Tony seemed stable now, but revealing this truth might unravel him. 

"Tony… are you scared right now?" Jack Li asked carefully. 

"Not really." Tony shrugged. "It's bright here. Feels safe." 

"Good… that's good." 

Officer Liu noticed Jack Li's unease. 

"But who knows what'll happen tomorrow—" Tony gazed at the sky wistfully. "Jack Li, do you think we'll never—" 

"Stop!" Jack Li clamped a hand over Tony's mouth, cold sweat beading. "We *will* get out. Stay calm." 

Tony nodded mutely. Jack Li released him. 

"I trust you, Jack Li," Tony said. "You're like that hero in my novel who cracked the unsolvable." 

"Glad to hear it." Jack Li forced a smile. "I'll handle things. Don't worry." 

Officer Liu connected the dots. Was "Summoner" just a cursed gift of prophecy? 

"Yeah, Tony, don't overthink," Officer Liu chimed in. "We'll get everyone out." 

"You two are acting weird." Tony frowned. 

"It's nothing," they said in unison. 

The priority was silencing Tony's Echo. Otherwise, his imagination might conjure trains derailing into fields or meteor showers. 

"Why drag me here if you won't explain?" Tony sighed. 

Jack Li massaged his temples. These Echoes defied logic—no flying heroes, just warped reality. Tony summoned disasters, Luna forged false causality, Officer Liu materialized objects. Xiao Xiao's "Frame" had poisoned through sheer belief. 

If madness ruled here, then Xiao Xiao's bowl of meat became venom by will alone. 

"I'm tired." Tony stretched. "Coming back?" 

"We'll stay. Smoke break." Officer Liu waved him off. 

As Tony left, Jack Li cut to the chase: "Officer Liu, remember your Echo?" 

"My… Echo?" He frowned. "Last time I just smoked and blacked out." 

"That cigarette." Jack Li pressed. "You pulled a pristine *Cordyceps* from an empty pack. Remember?" 

Officer Liu's eyes widened. "My daughter's lighter! The Zippo she bought with New Year money!" 

"Exactly. I think your Echo conjures anything you need." 

Officer Liu's expression darkened. 

"Only Echoers retain memories, right?" he asked. "And it triggers near death?" 

"Yes." 

"Then I've got a plan." Officer Liu's voice hardened. "Kill me. Briefly." 

"Are you insane?!" 

"Hear me out." His eyes burned. "At death's door, I'll manifest 3,600 *Dao*. Enough for everyone to escape!" 

Jack Li scoffed. "*Dao* are walnut-sized. Where would you hide thousands?" 

"Trial and error. I'll keep trying until it works." 

"Why sacrifice yourself for strangers?!" 

Officer Liu lit another cigarette. "I'm a cop. Protecting people—known or not—is the job." 

"And if you die summoning them? You'll never leave!" 

"Perfect ending." He smiled bitterly. "Dying a hero." 

"Don't—" 

"Zhang Huanan's still out there." Officer Liu cut in. "I can't face him." 

"Contact 2010 me." Jack Li scribbled a number. "Fourteen-year-old me will help." 

"A kid against a crime lord?!" 

"Trust me." Jack Li's eyes held bottomless resolve. "Just promise not to play martyr." 

After a tense pause, Officer Liu nodded. "Deal. Unless it's an unavoidable 'accident.'" 

"What's *your* Echo?" Officer Liu changed tack. 

"Unknown." Jack Li shrugged. "Next cycle, I might forget everything. You're our anchor." 

"Then memorize this." Jack Li shared Aurora's code phrase: *"Knock knock knock."* 

Their childish game—her pretending to visit—would reboot his memories. 

As Jack Li unfolded the crumpled "Ascension Gambit Contract for Zodiacs," Officer Liu peered over. The terms within—bizarre hierarchies, lethal wagers—defied sanity. 

"What madman wrote this?!" Officer Liu rasped. 

The document outlined a grotesque pyramid: Zodiacs betting lives to ascend ranks, their "promotions" contingent on slaughtering participants. At the apex? A single "Celestial" position, requiring mountains of corpses as stepping stones. 

Jack Li's fingers tightened on the paper. This wasn't just a game—it was an abattoir with rules.