Illusion Report

Chapter 337: Chapter 293: Fu Tailan: The Inevitable Conclusion and Action

Even though he’d already suspected it, Fu Tailan’s mind still couldn’t keep up — was this real? Had he heard wrong? Was the Nest messing with him?

His thoughts felt scorched and smoldering, and he half-wondered if smoke was pouring out of his ears.

Time travel — the kind of thing straight out of a sci-fi novel — he’d set that aside for now. But there was one thing he couldn’t ignore: could a Nest train actually pull into a regular human station?

From a purely logistical standpoint, no such train was on the schedule. Hadn’t any of the station staff noticed an extra train that had no business being there?

Then again — maybe this was all a trap.

The seatback behind him tilted forward, dipping close to his ear like a whisper: "Didn’t I tell you to get off?"

Fu Tailan jolted so hard he practically launched himself out of his seat. He snatched his bag from the adjacent seat, lunged for the carriage door, and only then turned to look back.

The rows of seats sat exactly where they’d always been, quiet and still. The entire train was empty — just him.

...Fine.

Even if this was a Nest trap, even if stepping off the train meant walking straight into trouble, he had no other choice.

When he thought about it, that had been his life since he was twelve.

The most ordinary things — like walking out a door — came weighted with consequences wildly out of proportion to the act. And there’s only so much pressure a person can take.

When even sneezing could get you killed, when danger might come at any moment and in any form, something in your head eventually just — snaps. And after that, you’re never quite the same as everyone else.

Fu Tailan stepped out into the surge of the crowd.

He’d barely paused to get his bearings before someone clipped his shoulder. He turned — a man in glasses, already moving away, tossing out a perfunctory "sorry" without breaking stride.

The stream of passengers filing off the train moved around him in every direction: heads bowed, brows furrowed, bags in hand. Some sidestepped him in silence; others shot him a mildly irritated look as they passed.

...Where had all these people come from?

Fu Tailan stepped quickly aside and peered through the window into the carriage. It was packed with ordinary passengers — someone clutching a jacket, someone hauling a suitcase down from the overhead rack, someone scrolling on their phone while they waited for the aisle to clear. The interior had changed completely, all traces of the Nest’s décor gone. It looked exactly like any other regular train.

As for the Nest train he’d been sitting on moments ago — there wasn’t a single trace of it left.

Had the Nest train... pulled itself inside a normal train?

He quickly pulled out his phone.

Monday, November 16, 2026. 12:00 AM. Full signal.

On the train arriving at exactly midnight — not a single soul on board had any idea that one of their fellow passengers had come from the future.

...No. That was too surreal. He needed to confirm it.

"Excuse me,"

Fu Tailan found a young woman in the station hall who seemed to be waiting for someone. He kept his voice soft. "I’m sorry to bother you — my phone’s dead. Could you tell me the time?"

The woman glanced at him, and the typical Blackmoor City stranger-wariness melted right off her face.

She held out her phone with a smile. "Is this your first time in Blackmoor City? If you walk a little further that way, there’s a huge clock."

Her screen read: November 16, 12:11 AM.

"Wait, today’s the 16th?" Fu Tailan blinked, looking genuinely bewildered. "I’ve completely lost track of the days."

Anyone else striking up a conversation with a stranger like that would’ve been pegged as a scammer by a Blackmoor local in under ten seconds. But this woman seemed to find him oddly endearing.

"Can’t blame you for getting confused — it just ticked past midnight," she said, perfectly gracious about it. "Barely even the 16th yet."

...The train bound for November 16th. And the time he stepped off — still within the first hour of November 16th.

Fu Tailan thanked her, gave a small wave under her bright, curious gaze, and walked away.

He’d stepped off at midnight exactly. From that moment, time had started moving forward at its normal pace. When he thought about it, his situation right now was... actually kind of interesting.

One thing was now certain.

The Fu Tailan standing here — fully aware that he had come back — was still the Fu Tailan of November 26th.

He hadn’t been sent back as a consciousness dropped into his ten-days-younger body. He had returned with his November 26th body intact, arriving in November 16th.

Which meant that somewhere in Blackmoor City right now, there was still a November 16th version of himself.

In other words, the other Fu Tailan’s timeline was moving forward as normal. When it reached November 26th, this version of him had folded back to the 16th — branching off into a parallel track. And since he had no memory of ever encountering a version of himself from the future, the two of them clearly hadn’t crossed paths.

He checked the time.

Everything the other Fu Tailan was living through right now was already memory to him.

So he knew exactly what had happened just a few hours ago: the other him had brought the train ticket to George Green, manufactured a moment of skin contact, and been conscripted into the Nest Dominance Game.

...The gears had already started turning.

That Fu Tailan — the one who’d worked so hard to wrangle an entry spot through George Green — couldn’t possibly imagine that what he’d just set in motion would turn into a nightmare a few days later.

Fu Tailan stood at the edge of the road in the dark and let out a low, quiet laugh, one hand over his face.

The price Nest Hospital had demanded was his fate across ten days — November 15th through November 25th. The reason was obvious: the Nest wanted those ten days locked down, nailed shut.

Even if Fu Tailan could come back, the Nest intended to pin him down in total helplessness.

He couldn’t change a single thing that was about to happen. Not the conscription. Not the disqualification. Not Fu Han being taken and framed. He could only watch it all play out again, beat by beat, exactly as it had before.

Had those ten days of history forced him into the Nest to recover — or had his choice to enter the Nest created those ten days of history?

Which came first, the chicken or the egg?

There probably wasn’t any point in asking that now.

What he could say for certain was this: his every move had to stay completely clear of the other Fu Tailan, the one still drifting along without a clue...

The Nest had already decreed that fate was immutable. If he refused to accept that and went charging straight at the other version of himself, he’d end up with the worst of both worlds — unable to change anything, and hit with punishments he hadn’t seen coming.

He would have to operate in the shadows, quietly collecting the target Illusions from the Nest Dominance Game.

As Carter Morgan had said, if he got his hands on the majority of the seven Illusions, there was a strong chance the Nest Dominance Game would conscript him again — and when that moment came, it would also be the moment he made his move against Carter Morgan.

A second-generation kid with no Path and no real experience of the Nest... Honestly thought that holding a hostage was enough.

Fu Tailan stood at the roadside, thinking.

If the objective was collecting Illusions...

Right now, there was one person who held more Illusions than anyone else.

And at this moment, no one could compete with him — on November 16th, Fu Tailan was the only other conscripted player besides that person.

Fu Tailan even knew exactly where to find him.

Because from the 16th onward, every television and newspaper in Blackmoor City had broadcast where he’d been the night before.

He raised his hand and flagged down a cab.

"Where to?" the driver asked, in a thick accent from God knows where.

The address of the Upper State District — where Westley Manor stood — had already risen to the surface of his mind. But something made him pause, and he quietly changed his mind.

From this point on, he couldn’t leave any traces. He couldn’t let anyone follow a trail back to Fu Tailan.

Besides, he’d only grabbed the bag from the entryway on his way out. It had the basic supplies he’d taken to the Nest, nothing more. He wasn’t prepared enough.

But then... the Fu Tailan of November 16th was still the Morgan Family’s director. He still had full access.

"Morgan Mansion on 120th Street," he said, a faint smile on his lips.

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