On the vast square where towering display screens stood, a fierce wind howled, swirling sand and dust violently.
Dr. Zhao turned to Yan Zhichun with a panicked expression. “This scene… I can’t handle this. I’m not even mentally prepared… You’re really pushing me too hard.”
Yan Zhichun frowned slightly, then raised her gaze toward the display screens. Her eyes pierced through the airborne dust, quickly scanning the nearly illegible text before her brows furrowed deeper.
It seemed she couldn’t spot the word **”Dissociation”** on the screen.
Perhaps the sudden, overwhelming spectacle had shattered Dr. Zhao’s resolve. Maybe she should have explained the severity of the mission last night?
But Yan Zhichun didn’t know him well enough. If she had revealed the truth, he might have fled even sooner.
“You’re already here,” Yan Zhichun said. “Right now, everyone sees us as a band of **’rebels.’** Even if you try to run, you’ll die. Instead of clinging to unrealistic fantasies, focus on what’s in front of you.”
Dr. Zhao swept his gaze across the distance, battered by the wind and dust. The square housing the giant clock and display screens was open on all sides, and figures were already closing in from every direction.
He knew that even if he tried to flee now, he’d be intercepted by enforcers hunting the rebels—likely making him the first casualty.
“You people are too cruel…” Dr. Zhao muttered. “Was it really necessary to corner me like this…?”
Yan Zhichun reached out, gripping his shoulders firmly. “It’s not just you,” she said, enunciating each word. “Everyone here is in a desperate situation.”
“What…?”
“Every single person standing beside you is facing their own impossible trial,” Yan Zhichun continued. “Even the White Tiger blocking our path is more conflicted than anyone.”
Dr. Zhao fell silent. He had always assumed Yan Zhichun was a woman of few words, never realizing she could be so persuasive.
“So, I *should* be helping you sort out your thoughts and steady your nerves—but we don’t have time for that. No one here has it easier than you.” She exhaled sharply. “If you think you can do this, I’ll shift my focus onto you. If not, figure out how to save yourself.”
Yan Zhichun gave Dr. Zhao an unsettlingly disjointed impression. At thirty-six, he had weathered society’s storms for years, while this woman couldn’t be much older than twenty. By all logic, his experience should surpass hers.
Yet, her methods and words made him feel completely outmatched.
“Little girl… This isn’t about whether I *can* or not,” Dr. Zhao said, voice trembling. “Right now… I can’t find that *feeling* anymore. Do you understand? I’m terrified. I can’t promise you anything. What if **’Dissociation’** is already gone?”
Yan Zhichun was about to reply when a figure emerged behind Dr. Zhao.
“I can help you.”
She focused—it was Lin Qin. A flicker of hesitation crossed her face.
“You…?” Dr. Zhao turned to Lin Qin. “How?”
Lin Qin reached out, gently taking his arm. “Everything will be alright.”
The moment his skin met hers—soft, warm—he froze. “You mean…?”
“I’m **’Ignition,’**” she said. “Once I touch you, it’ll be easier for you to achieve **’Echo.’**”
Yan Zhichun’s frown deepened. She had always doubted Lin Qin’s identity, and this so-called **’Ignition’** sounded dubious.
The concept was abstract: **’Echo’** depended entirely on belief. If someone claimed to be **’Ignition’** and insisted their touch amplified **’Echo,’** it would inherently strengthen the target’s conviction.
In other words… whether or not the person touching you was truly **’Ignition,’** as long as you believed their words, the effect was already achieved.
By that logic, *anyone* could be **’Ignition,’** and no one could verify if the ability was real.
Yan Zhichun subtly glanced back at the display. Unlike before, she quickly spotted the word **’Ignition’** in a corner.
It seemed **’Ignition’** was indeed a genuine **’Echo’**—but its function left her baffled.
An unheard-of **’veteran extremist,’** coupled with a seemingly trivial **’Echo,’** only deepened Yan Zhichun’s suspicions about Lin Qin.
If Lin Qin could receive **’Heaven’s Whisper,’** it proved she genuinely believed herself an **’extremist’**—aligned with **’Causality’s’** judgment.
Yet, something still felt *off.*
“So… just by touching, it’ll work?” Dr. Zhao hesitated, turning back to Lin Qin.
“Exactly. Just let things unfold naturally. Your **’Echo’** will emerge soon enough.” Lin Qin nodded reassuringly. “For now, let’s complete the mission.”
Yan Zhichun knew that, suspicions aside, Lin Qin was still technically on their side.
“Y-Yan Zhichun…” Dr. Zhao stammered. “The clock and screens are too massive. Even if I *do* achieve **’Echo,’** destroying them requires certain conditions…”
“Name them,” Yan Zhichun said. “I’ll give my life if needed.”
“N-No, nothing that extreme…” He stared up at the towering structures. “I need to *touch* them. They’re too large—I can’t trigger **’Dissociation’** from here.”
“Touch…” Yan Zhichun’s gaze hardened as she assessed the path ahead. Though unobstructed, a white-robed elder stood guard at the end, summoning gale-force winds to hold back the **’extremists.’**
They’d have to reach the clock *under the White Tiger’s watch…?*
“And… one more thing.” Dr. Zhao’s expression turned awkward. “For safety, it’d be best if… a woman accompanied me. Even if she’s dead by the time we get there.”
“A *woman?*” Yan Zhichun was taken aback. “I can arrange an escort, but why specify gender?”
“W-Well…” He averted his eyes. “It’s not about protection. Only by touching a woman can I guarantee **’Dissociation’** activates at full power.”
Yan Zhichun’s eyes darkened. **”You’d better not be lying to me.”**
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