Operator #15 · [Return · Return]

July 5, 2024.

Before the morning mist had completely dissipated, Sixty-Three dialed that mysterious, confidential number.

With only two days left until the travel deadline, is it already too late for Bailu's illness?

He dared not provoke the Hand of Omnipotence, for his frail body was no match for the Ring Finger.

But as the days went by, Jiang Bailu showed no improvement. He had to do something—follow the original timeline, based on the fundamental events of Jiang Xueming's life, and along this path of success, to replicate another [Beautiful Heaven].

He couldn't bear his sister's crying and hoarse screams in the hospital room.

These sounds were like rusty knives, repeatedly scraping and cutting into his soul.

Nightmares also plagued him; he hadn't slept for two days, and a lot of white hair had grown on the back of his head.

Get through this hurdle, Sixty-Three--

He said this to himself.

No matter how bitter or difficult things get, as long as you persevere, everything will be alright.

Unlike Jiang Xueming, Sixty-Three wanted to look in the mirror all the time.

He was terrified by his own lifeless appearance, like that of a walking corpse. For so many years, so many years, he had never felt his body so weak and powerless.

Faced with the torrent of fate, he was like a rootless duckweed, at the mercy of others.

His eyes were sunken, and a dark aura seemed to emanate from his cheeks and between his brows.

A long, cold, and unsettling tone came from the phone; it rang five or six times in a row, but no one answered.

This left the Sixty-Three -old feeling restless and anxious, yet also secretly hopeful.

--Until a greeting came from the loudspeaker.

"Is this Mr. Sixty-Three?"

The voice sounded like it had been specially processed by an electric current, like an electronically synthesized voice, indistinguishable between male, female, young, and old.

"I," Sixty-Three, immediately exclaimed excitedly, "It's me! It's me! It's me! You were looking for me, weren't you? I'm going to the Nine Realms Station right away, I'm coming right now!"

Boss: "Is this Mr. Sixty-Three?"

"No, no, no! I am Jiang Xueming, I am Jiang Xueming!" Sixty-Three's gaze gradually became vacant, as if he had never been alive. He explained in a panic, "I am Jiang Xueming, I am Jiang Xueming."

BOSS: "Don't worry, Mr. Sixty-Three, I'll arrange a driver for you."

"When? When is Xiao Qi coming?" Sixty-Three asked repeatedly, "Also, can the Universal Elixir be delivered immediately?"

"I'm very sorry, Mr. Sixty-Three, I can't answer so many questions at the same time." The BOSS changed the subject and immediately said seriously, "I know reality is cruel to you, but there are many things we have to accept."

Sixty-Three: "What do you mean by that?"

Boss: "Take your ticket, I'll be there soon."

Sixty-Three: "What exactly do you mean by that? Hey! Explain yourself!"

The call has ended.

A terrible chill gradually enveloped Sixty-Three's heart.

He always believed that the power of the Regret Pill had taken him back to an endless past, where he lived in a peaceful and happy paradise. He never realized that it was all a dream.

Now that things have come to this, Ming De immediately exposed the truth that he came from FE204863, leaving him at a loss.

Could it be that Ming De already knows?

Does it know everything?

"I've traversed endless time, finally arriving at this fertile land, this heavenly kingdom," Sixty-Three said, his forehead covered in cold sweat. His reflection in the mirror was so young, yet his expression held an eerie, inexplicable air of old age. "Right now, I'm like a sneaky stowaway! Have I already been discovered by Ming De, the coast guard? The question is—what will he do?"

"Will it refuse me? No, no, no. It's only after its own profit; it definitely won't refuse me."

"It would never throw me into the cold sea to drown; after all, I've already taught it a lesson. No, no, no, no, no. It won't, it won't."

An intense sense of unease nearly overwhelmed him.

"My abilities are unparalleled, my soul power is indestructible—it should understand this, it does! It would never be foolish enough to oppose me. Even Ming De of FE33031 must have tasted the sweetness of victory on another me, on another Jiang Xueming."

Sixty-Three looked at his hands, then clenched his fists.

"My essence, the potential contained within my body, the abundant and plentiful power of my soul!"

"This is all what it craves, so it's not me who should be afraid! It's it!"

"It is Ming De who should feel uneasy!"

Sixty-Three's eyes were bloodshot, accompanied by a powerful incantation—

--He seemed to have regained some strength, and a little bit of courage.

"Brother... Xue Ming, Ming Ge Xueming." A weak, feeble voice called out from the sanatorium.

Sixty-Three immediately set off. He heard Bailu's murmurs in her sleep, still struggling with nightmares and illness. Hearing it made him tremble and touching it made him shudder.

He wanted to gently stroke Bailu's forehead, but dared not reach out, as if it was he himself, not his sister, who had contracted the strange and terrible disease.

The doctor's letter of condolence carries the dual meaning of indicating both conservative treatment and a critical condition notification.

--The patient's family should be psychologically prepared to lose a loved one.

Unlike Xue Ming of FE33031, Sixty-Three could not accept this written notification.

He had already signed this thin document once, leaving behind heavy and terrifying handwriting. The three characters, Jiang Xueming, were written with strokes like crooked, venomous snakes, carrying unparalleled regret and pain, becoming evidence of the sanatorium's disclaimer.

Sixty-Three: "Take this piece of paper away!"

The attending physician was surprised and astonished, but continued to comfort and dissuade the frail young man before him.

"I understand how you feel; this is a nursing home."

"How many patients do you treat every day?" Sixty-Three angrily interrupted the doctor, cutting off the same old bureaucratic platitudes he'd heard countless times. "I won't sign it, I won't! I want you to do everything in your power to save my sister. You have no way out, absolutely no way out—I'm watching you. Before I get back, if anything happens to her, I, this medical malpractice troll, will absolutely make you lose your job, not just your job, but your entire life. This is a death threat. You need to think this through, you absolutely must think this through."

The attending physician's expression changed; the short man had grabbed his collar with such incredible strength.

Sixty-Three continued, "I won't allow any strangers near her, especially your new interns, understand? I'll pay you, I'll pay you a lot of money."

The doctor nodded. "I... I understand."

"No, no, no... no... you don't know." Sixty-Three pulled on the doctor's name tag. "HK Anshan Health Center, Sanatorium Building 2, Ward 405, Dr. Li Kangming. I've investigated your personal information. You get up at 8:40 every day and especially like the espresso at the intersection of West Street."

Sixty-Three pulled the doctor in front of him, closing the height difference, and their faces got closer and closer.

"You wouldn't care if you waited more than fifteen minutes for this cup of coffee, or even queued for half an hour, and you wouldn't mind being late at all."

A long, scarlet tongue protrudes from its sharp, white teeth.

Sixty-Three then continued—

"--For you, the pay deduction for being late is calculated based on performance, amounting to 1200 yuan a month. You don't care about that money at all, thinking that sleep and coffee are so, so wonderful. Quality of life is far more important than that 1200 yuan."

Dr. Kang Ming finally realized that something was very wrong.

"Now, I'm going to tell you," Sixty-Three stuffed the license plate back into Dr. Kangming's breast pocket, "The price of being late is far more than 1,200 yuan. It could become your wife, your parents, your children. There's no Regret Pill in this world."

"Yes... yes." Dr. Kang Ming gasped for breath, nodding vigorously, not daring to meet the demon's gaze. "I know, I understand."

"Then let's reinforce your memory." Sixty-Three cupped Dr. Li Kangming's chin. "The person in front of you isn't some ordinary medical malpractice troublemaker. He doesn't want money, understand?"

Li Kangming: "Understood. Understood."

Sixty-Three: "He's a freak, a daredevil who lives on the edge. He's a man of his word. This month's medical bills, all extra expenses, and the donation to the Anshan Health Center charity fund are all going to be deposited into the designated account, understand?"

Li Kangming: "Understood."

Sixty-Three: "So forget your espresso, Dr. Li Kangming, go to bed earlier every day, and cherish your peaceful and comfortable life. I won't sign this flimsy piece of paper, because the pressure it puts on me is far too heavy—I can't bear it alone."

Li Kangming: "I... I understand."

Close your eyes and take a deep breath.

--Sixty-Three finally revealed a satisfied expression. This thrill of controlling the life and death of others, almost like having fate by the throat, had finally returned to his heart.

Through the window, he could see the toilet at the end of the hospital corridor, and in front of the sink in the washroom, a young and handsome face reflected in the mirror—a face that was both terrifying and handsome.

--Every day is incredibly enjoyable!

He will soon return to the Royal Palace and embark on the glorious path once trodden by the Spirit Elder.

He took two train tickets, changed into a khaki shirt, and then walked out.

He hadn't slept for forty-eight hours, filled with worry about Bailu's condition and anticipation and fear about the uncertain path ahead in his life.

He took unsteady steps forward, his footsteps crunching on the sun-baked, dry cypress leaves, like the crackling sound of flesh being steamed by the flames during cremation due to excess moisture.

Each piercing horn blare, like a vicious needle, sent shivers down his spine, causing his already weakened spirit to ache—for he was about to meet another very important person in his life.

9527.

Bai Ziqing.

Sixty-Three murmured, "Qingqing."

A black car was parked on a quiet, remote woodland road outside the porch.

It was a Volga, Sixty-Three Volga that was both incredibly familiar and incredibly strange to me.

The two large, round headlights stared straight at him like the eyes of a wild beast.

Sixty-Three knocked on the car window, and the back door immediately opened.

He sat in the back seat and saw the dark blue suit sleeves and the white gloves on the steering wheel.

He had mentally prepared himself and finally tried to peek into the waiter's eyes from a special angle in the rearview mirror.

"White"

"Superise! -- Mr. Sixty-Three!"

A completely unfamiliar woman grinned at the back seat, revealing her menacing canine teeth.

Sixty-Three, on the other hand, was utterly terrified, as if he had seen a ghost. "Who are you? Who the hell are you?!"

The woman turned her head, took off her hat, and made a face while pulling at her eyelids, revealing her bright golden, linear pupils. "I've come to pick you up myself! My SSR (corruption) has been corrupted, brackets complete."

"What's going on! What's going on!" Sixty-Three covered his mouth, feeling a strong sense of nausea; everything familiar suddenly became strange—

--disturbed!

--This is so disturbing!

--This is absolutely disturbing!

"Who do you think I am? Someone who kicked out 9527? Let her leave work early? And then came to replace her as some lovesick bitch?" Ming De combed his hair. "Do you like my anthropomorphic body? I specifically asked Victor to write me as pretty! So that when we meet again after so long, it won't be awkward if we just glance at each other."

She was five and a half feet tall, with slender fingers after taking off her gloves, and a clever, cunning look in her eyes. Her nose and mouth were small, but her eyes were large. Apart from her jet-black hair and cat ears, she looked exactly like an American little devil.

"Ming De?!" Sixty-Three's eyes almost popped out of their sockets, his mind filled with more and more questions.

Why?

Why, in this timeline, did Ming De return to personally pick up such a lowly henchman?

Why does it seem to know everything? It seems to have an unparalleled understanding of time travel!

Why is it a woman? And what's this "Victor" it's talking about?

Have I fallen under the spell of [Hell Highway]? Am I controlled by David Victor?

This is such a mess! My head is spinning!

"Stop thinking about it, Sixty-Three. Some things just get more complicated the more you think about them." The boss pulled a ball of yarn from the glove compartment, placed it on the passenger seat, and started patting it, like a cat instinctively losing all reason at the sight of such a toy. "Let me guess what you're dreaming about?"

Immediately afterwards--

--The BOSS, like a clever devil who never stops, knelt in the driver's seat, tilted his head, and shouted at the back row.

"You must be thinking! What on earth happened? Why did this damned son of a bitch have to suddenly appear out of nowhere during your smooth journey of transmigration and rebirth? Right? You must be thinking about these things!"

Sixty-Three shouted, "Four years! I've been here for four years!"

"Yes! From the age of seventeen." The BOSS held up his index finger, his bright red nail polish painted on the bridge of Sixty-Three's nose. "You have followed FE33031's survival path, followed his life trajectory all the way for four whole years. You have been eagerly anticipating—hoping to obtain a lucky life like his in this ceremony. This is your paradise, isn't it?! FE204863!"

"You fucking know everything? Something's not right!" Sixty-Three then started biting his nails, anxiously considering all the possibilities. "Could it be that FE33031's awakened soul power is Regret Pill '? Did he send you back here? Is there more than one Red Mountain Stone? Have you and he reached a more secure and reliable agreement? Am I finally unable to escape... me?"

"Bring all the spilled energy, all the scattered thoughts back." The BOSS slapped the weak and powerless Sixty-Three awake, one on each side. "It's not as complicated as you think, Mr. Sixty-Three. You were just simply having a dream."

"A dream? How could that be! How could there be such a realistic dream in the world!" Sixty-Three immediately denied it. "No, no, no! Impossible! Absolutely impossible! I've been in this time and space for over a thousand days! Every day and every second has been so agonizing! I've lived cautiously, afraid that the ritual process might go wrong in the slightest, afraid that the result wouldn't be as perfect as expected. If I can't perfectly replicate FE33031's life, what's the point of all this? BOSS! BOSS! Ming De! You're right! I'm dreaming, aren't I? You'll become like this, appear in my head, drive away 9527, and become my driver—that's the dream, isn't it?!"

"What did I do to offend you with my appearance?" Ming De's excitement turned to boredom in an instant. "I actually think Victor did a pretty good job. The character design drafts he drew himself were all well thought by the more than a thousand VIPs present. There were just a few blind fools who said it was too tacky, so I just threw them off the 51st floor. Whether they survive or not is up to them. Harvest Season is like a woman on her period, she's very temperamental."

At Sixty-Three, he was almost insane.

"What are you saying? Why can't I understand a word of this! Boss! Boss! Boss!"

"As for the more than a thousand days you spent in this time and space," Ming De pondered, resting his chin on his hand, then revealed a sinister grin. "Time in dreams is quite different from reality. During the active period of sleep, people only need a mere forty-five minutes to dream of a day or two, even a week—I know you need to be mentally prepared to accept this fact, so..."

Sixty-Three's face was ashen, like that of a dead man.

"So? So what? So what?"

Ming De kept everyone in suspense--

"--Asks should be asked one by one, and I should answer them one by one, hehe! Let me start with your very first, most impolite question: why did I end up looking like this!"

Almost instinctively, at Sixty-Three, he sought reassurance. "Why?"

Ming De slammed on the gas pedal. "Because of my short legs, only forty centimeters tall! I can't even reach the accelerator of the Volga!"

The sudden push made Sixty-Three lose consciousness, and then everything started to go crazy.

Ming De cheered and grabbed Sixty-Three's head, pulling him to the front seat and leaving a bright red kiss mark on his cheek.

"Hahahaha! Hahahaha! Mr. Sixty-Three! Please sit down! We'll take you to the Nine Realms Station right away!"

"Ah, yes, yes, add this, add this!" The BOSS stood on Victor's lap with anticipation, licking his lips incessantly with his little tongue, his eyes practically glowing green. "Is it easy to write? Is it easy to write? Look at him! He's like a work of art! The oppressive aura he exudes, even with such a weak physical body, his spiritual power and soul are radiant! I can't even imagine it, slurp slurp slurp (licking his paws), just thinking about your student turning out like this makes me want to bully him!"

Teacher Victor frowned, controlling the tail of [Hell Highway], trying to carve new words onto Sixty-Three's body.

"No problem, I can continue the story."

Jiang Xueming, on the other hand, looked like an elderly person looking at their phone on the subway.

"Why is it still putting on such a show at such a crucial moment?"

Xiao Qi stayed by her lover's side, speaking the same hometown dialect as Mr. Wen Bucai.

"I don't know."