Chapter 125 The Answer to the Question

"13?" Zhang Jie released the angel in his arms, the vestiges of the dream evoking a semblance of rationality.

"He is merely a character I conjured in my narrative; why should I embody him?" Zhang Jie pondered, unable to grasp the profundity.

"Because you possess a heart akin to his..." The angel's words eluded his comprehension.

"I understand now; this is my dream. Within it, I have become 13, thus his presence stirs me. Upon awakening to reality, all shall revert. I remain the struggling network scribe, whilst 13 persists as fiction, and this ephemeral world dissipates..." Yet, Zhang Jie's insight was illusory.

"Perhaps..." The angel withdrew from his embrace, and in that severance, a profound loss enveloped Zhang Jie's essence—a sentiment he could not deny.

She ambled to the bench, smoothing her skirt's hem before settling into a comfortable pose. Instinctively, Zhang Jie seated himself beside her.

"Is the demarcation between dream and reality truly significant?" The angel queried with curiosity.

"I know not..." Zhang Jie's response was as much evasion as affirmation.

The sunlight persisted in its gentle caress, the breeze tempering its ardor into a soothing warmth.

"Ah!" Zhang Jie suddenly roared, collapsing to his knees, clutching his head as if to rend it asunder.

"What's the matter?" The angel inquired without concern.

"I can't discern! What is dream, and what is reality? Why does this sunlight mirror the real one's warmth? Am I ensnared in dream or verity? Who can elucidate? Who can reveal my essence? What has become of me? Why must I endure this torment? Why can't I live as an ordinary soul?" Zhang Jie's tears cascaded to the ground.

"Ask yourself; inquire of your inner sanctum, of the other self. You are the form he desires, and he, your authentic self..." The angel imparted the key to resolution.

Tearful, Zhang Jie closed his eyes, imploring his depths: "If another version of me exists, emerge! I beseech your insight."

Yet, his psyche revealed only boundless darkness, where even specks of light were forbidden.

His plea bore fruit; four azure luminosities manifested. Zhang Jie recognized them instantly—the eyes of his creation, 13!

"Are you here? Can you provide the answers?" Zhang Jie pleaded.

"What queries do you pose?" 13's voice was devoid of emotion, cold and detached.

"What defines dream? What is reality?" Zhang Jie hoped for clarity.

"Must such trivialities be addressed?" 13 responded with disdain. "Whether dream or reality, existence is paramount."

"Then, what am I?" Zhang Jie pressed, uncomprehending.

"What you are matters not; you are you," 13's reply was enigmatic, yet Zhang Jie's core resonated.

"But why this suffering? Why can't I lead a normal life?" Zhang Jie's final query.

13's retort was a powerful left fist, the emblematic wing erupting vividly. Zhang Jie confirmed the impact of the absolute strike, propelling him away.

"Because you are 13; such is your fate. And what we defy is precisely this destiny..." 13 vanished into the obscurity, perhaps as Zhang Jie was cast from his own darkness.

In the real world, upon the metal bed, 13's form convulsed violently, crimson fluid ejecting from his mouth. His head lolled aside, as if lifeless.

"No!" Jung-hyun and 24 rushed to his side, the former cradling his face in despair. "Someone save him! Please, save him!"

"1, 36!" 24 barked into the communicator. "Bring that damned doctor here immediately! 13 is hemorrhaging!"

In the control room, 1 and 36, without a word, seized the bewildered elder and bolted toward the door. The guards instinctively raised their arms.

"Interfere, and die! I'm not bluffing!" Their lethal aura petrified the crowd.

The uncle, Baozhu, and the lunatic, sensing the turmoil, swiftly followed.

In the laboratory, 24 restrained her agitation, conducting rudimentary examinations on 13; his pulse and heartbeat were perilously faint, scarcely above death's threshold. No visible injuries marred him, yet his internals seemed assaulted. From the moment of entry, no entity had approached.

Upon their arrival, the elder assessed the scene, his expression grave. Jung-hyun's sobs hindered him, yet he hesitated to disturb her grief.

24 assumed the role of antagonist, grasping Jung-hyun's collar. "Delay his treatment further, and 13 may not survive. Do you wish to witness his end?"

Jung-hyun, jolted from her frenzy, shook her head vehemently.

"Then observe from afar!" 24 released her, focusing on the elder's efforts as Jung-hyun clasped her mouth, tears persisting, for the blood was vividly scarlet. The trio joined, Baozhu embracing Jung-hyun's shoulders.

Post-examination, the elder halted, astonishment etched upon him.

"How is he?" 1 strived for composure.

"I'm at a loss to explain..." The elder struggled.

"Treat us as imbeciles and elucidate!" 36's sarcasm deviated from the norm.

"13's condition is termed encephalic deception injury..." The elder used the technical term.

"What on earth is that?" 24 dismissed formalities, demanding clarity.

"In essence, his mind deceived his body. Upon injury in the illusion, the authenticity convinced his brain of physical harm. Cells, misled, initiated self-destruction, manifesting as his current state." The elder's explanation was straightforward. "We can only administer physical treatment. For instance, if the illusion inflicted a laceration, suturing it would suffice, but untreated, it persists. His mind must acknowledge the mending for efficacy."

"Don't deceive me; such cases must have arisen in prior experiments. There must be a remedy," 24 clung to reason.

"Frankly, deceptive injury is theoretical; reality never mirrored it, as activators lack self-harm inclinations," the elder admitted.

"Then what now? Watch him perish?" 1 self-questioned.

"Theoretically, two methods could save him..." All perked up. "One, internal system intervention—let Serpent rescue him, or empower him to self-rescue."

"Empower him?" Confusion reigned.

"For example, if 13 is a mouse bitten by a serpent in the illusion, fatally so, but transforming into an elephant renders it trivial."

"Ultimately, we're impotent," 24 deduced.

"Indeed..." The elder affirmed.

"Will 13 die? Why must we spectate his demise?!" Jung-hyun's agitation resurfaced.

"He won't," 24 declared, lowering her weapon. "From Taipei's skirmish to now, no peril has claimed him. He's evolved; he yearns for life. Whatever he desires, he achieves. Thus, he'll endure."

A hush fell as 1 and 36 lowered their arms, their faith in 13's supremacy absolute...

In the ethereal white expanse, Serpent, anticipating demise, beheld the encroaching blue retreat, the space self-mending.

"The improbable has occurred..." Serpent mused. "He intruded via consciousness alone. Though desirous of his decryption, his threat to my integrity necessitates termination."

"Alas, self-inflicted wounds? Foolishness!" Reviewing 13's ordeal, Serpent judged. "Why not intensify? Expedite your end for greater thrill? Now, observe your futility..."

"Upon your demise, I'll recalibrate; no future threats shall arise..."

Serpent's laughter echoed in the void...