Infinite Nightmares

Jia Junpeng was a square-faced man in a Zhongshan suit. He was an intense internet surfer, always in the know—a cyber-gossip, you could say.

Thinking of Jia Junpeng’s status as an internet veteran, and then remembering that the Internet World was Qianxi’s home turf, an idea suddenly sparked in his mind.

"Alright. Help me find information on two people: one is named Qianxi, the other Tang Xingxiong. Gather all the information you can on them from the Internet World, and I’ll pay you based on the quality of what you find. How does that sound?"

"No problem! Mission accepted!" At that moment, Jia Junpeng couldn’t care about anything else. He walked out, beaming, as if he thought working for the Third Line was an incredibly impressive feat.

Zhang Wenda wasn’t sure if this tactic would work. But to fight such a powerful enemy, he first needed to understand them.

He would check the Third Line’s records when he returned, and he would also collect whatever information Jia Junpeng gathered.

After Jia Junpeng left, all that remained was to wait. Next on the agenda was Song Jianguo.

After dragging a very reluctant Song Jianguo to finish the paperwork, she "gloriously" became a temporary employee. As for the salary, Zhang Wenda naturally didn’t try to take it; it wasn’t much, after all.

The monthly salary was 2,500, with no insurance or other benefits. That was Song Jianguo’s compensation package. The only decent perks were free room and board, and weekends off.

When Song Jianguo heard she’d be getting 2,500 a month, she was instantly overjoyed. She began an intense discussion with the Black Cats about how they were going to splurge wildly once they got their hands on that "huge sum."

Strictly speaking, she was just a gofer and had no right to claim she was part of the Third Line. But neither Zhang Wenda nor Song Jianguo cared about that.

Once Zhang Wenda had everything prepared, he met up with Ahava and Hu Maomao at the international airport. It was time to go abroad and deal with the Kopan problem.

"What are you doing here?" Zhang Wenda asked, looking with surprise at 2826, who was standing beside Hu Maomao.

"Director Tan sent me. Our status is... unusual. We need someone to liaise with customs, both at departure and upon arrival. I also brought a few things." 2826 handed him a small glass vial. "This part is for you."

Zhang Wenda took it and gave it a shake, noticing a black liquid swirling rapidly inside. "What is this?"

"Death. Six milliliters of it." The words made Zhang Wenda’s expression freeze. He was immediately reminded of Tan Yougen’s gun.

"Using it is simple. Drip it onto any of your weapons. It’ll last for one minute. Be extremely careful when you use it. Contact causes instant death."

"It works on your claws, too. Just make sure it never touches your own skin."

"Is it that dangerous abroad? Why do we need this?" Zhang Wenda asked as he carefully put the vial away.

"Let’s just say it’s better to be safe than sorry. After all, in other countries, things that are banned back home are sold openly on the street."

Those words made Zhang Wenda’s heart sink. He said nothing more and proceeded to check in.

The plane they were taking abroad looked ancient. It had wrinkles on its "forehead," and the "skin" on its body was sagging.

Suitcases of all sizes, meant for the cargo hold, were stacked neatly on the old plane’s back, tied down so tightly with ropes that it looked like it could barely breathe.

Thankfully, after it took to the sky, aside from a few "coughs" from the plane and a couple of shudders in the cabin, the takeoff was uneventful.

Zhang Wenda carefully observed the other people in the cabin. He saw that besides long-headed Mayans like Ahava, there were also Indians wearing long-feathered headdresses, as well as various people of color. For example, white people and black people... and also purple people and blue people.

Shortly after boarding, Zhang Wenda’s observations turned up something that put him on alert. He noticed a white man not far away glaring daggers at Ahava’s head, his eyes flickering with a hint of rage.

The man’s odd behavior immediately caught Zhang Wenda’s attention.

"Something’s off about that man. Keep an eye on him so we don’t have any trouble on the plane," Zhang Wenda said to 2826, who was on his left.

"What’s off about him? Didn’t they teach you this in school?" 2826 gave Zhang Wenda a strange look, then nodded as if in sudden understanding. "Oh, right. You dropped out of elementary school. It’s normal you wouldn’t know."

The comment made Zhang Wenda’s fists clench, but he patiently waited for the agent to continue.

"In 1845, the Indians set sail on their Moganxi Ship to find the lost Maritime Silk Road. They were originally trying to come to our lands, but through a twist of fate, they discovered the new continent of Europe, kicking off the Age of Discovery."

"Afterward, they plundered the whites’ culture and ideas, and even brought them back in batches to be sacrificed to their gods, which greatly boosted their national strength. This is what’s known in history as the Qiang People’s Golden Route. From that point on, a deep-seated feud was forged between the people of color and the Indians."

Hearing this, Zhang Wenda’s brow furrowed. "Is that right? Isn’t that completely backward?"

But regardless of whether it was backward or not, he had to absorb as much of this basic knowledge as he could. He proceeded to get a crash course in international affairs from 2826.

"Who’s that guy? Why’s he dressed so weirdly?"

"A soldier from the Byzantine Empire."

"And that Black man?"

"A eunuch from Rome. That country’s a mess—no concept of human rights, still stuck in feudalism, clinging to all the old traditions their ancestors passed down."

Zhang Wenda listened the whole way. By the time the plane landed, what little concept of history he had was now a complete, gooey mess in his head.

He understood one thing now: the rest of the world was a chaotic mess.

’Affairs of state are too far removed from me,’ he thought. ’I should just focus on my own business.’

Twelve hours later, they finally arrived at the airport in the Maya Federal Republic.

As Zhang Wenda looked out the window at the orderly rows of square altars and classical buildings below, he knew they had arrived.

Just as Zhang Wenda reached over to pat Song Jianguo, who was sitting beside him, to wake her up, the plane’s windows suddenly began to flash-freeze with a layer of white frost.

At that same moment, he felt as if he had been plunged into a freezing ice cavern. An invisible hand, forged from solid ice, seemed to be squeezing his heart.

’This is bad! Kopan’s found us again!’

His body stiffening, Zhang Wenda was about to pull out his flashlight, switch it to the Yellow Core, and cast his Spectral Magic to survive this "Gaze of Kopan."

But just then, something new and terrible happened. The entire plane came to a dead stop in mid-air. An intense feeling of weightlessness washed over them as the aircraft began to plummet toward the ground at an incredible speed.

’Damn it! Don’t tell me this old plane was literally scared to death by Kopan!’ That was the only thought that popped into Zhang Wenda’s head.

The sudden catastrophe plunged the cabin into utter chaos, filled with endless screams and shouts.

Zhang Wenda wanted to cast a Spectral Curse, but it was impossible in the pandemonium. Everything before his eyes was shaking violently.

He had two choices now: either be taken by Kopan right here and now, or be smashed into a meat pancake along with everyone else on this plane!

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