Doomsday Wonderland

Chapter 1574: The Next Step from the Rabbit to the Wolf

"If a normal person is infected and transformed, he will expose the other normal people he knows to the Changelings... Since his memory is intact, this is not a problem. Therefore, as soon as a posthuman transforms, the existence of posthumans will no longer be a secret to the Changelings."

The four walls of the room retained their original red brick appearance. The low ceiling was painted white, and three yellow light bulbs hanging down were the only source of light in this unfamiliar basement, filling the room with a dim yellow glow.

No matter which direction he looked, a pair of eyes were staring at Wu Yiliu. Some were very large and pale; some were slender, arching upwards; others were surrounded by dark circles, as if two deep holes had been dug into the face.

He was surrounded by so many eyes, like a small insect in a breeding tank, with their owners watching him carefully and analytically, as if measuring whether they needed to execute or discard him.

A month ago, Wu Yiliu would never have thought that he would be in such a situation. At least a dozen posthumans circled the room, tall and short, standing or sitting, all listening intently to his words.

To blend into this normally functioning world, they had dressed as locally as possible. However, when he glanced at them, he still found it hard to describe their appearances—because each posthuman seemed like a strong, strange, different, and resonant stroke of bold ink, forcibly impressing themselves onto his retina.

They had different temperaments but all had a strong presence; however, they could conceal it completely if they wished. Wu Yiliu realized this shortly after entering the room.

When he first sat down, there seemed to be only four or five people in the room; but as he spoke more and more, more people seemed to emerge from the darkness, entering the light—although in reality, the light was always on, and the door was always closed.

Those who he felt appeared later were actually there all along, only becoming visible to Wu Yiliu when they chose to let him see them.

There were many people, and they all seemed quite capable.

A woman with glossy, moist lips covered with many white granules smiled and said, "I see. That's not hard. As long as we find a Changeling posthuman, we can prove this young boy's sincerity."

She didn't talk much, but in just a few comments, Wu Yiliu had already taken a special liking to her.

He nodded to the ageless woman and continued, "As you know from my previous experiences, the Changelings and non- Changelings cannot coexist peacefully. They hope to infect all normal people into Changelings. Posthumans are no exception."

To win over the posthumans, he explained his own and Professor Qiao's experiences, knowing how absurd they sounded but still telling them everything.

Professor Qiao knew this step was necessary, but she didn't want to appear in person. Wu Yiliu was hearing her panicked tone for the first time, as if she feared what they might represent.

"Let them try and see if they can infect us," said a man in the corner with a provocative laugh. "After all, they lose their evolved abilities after transforming, so no matter how many of them there are, they're just a disorganized mob. I really don't understand you, gathering everyone like this just for a group of ordinary people with ulterior motives?"

He glared at Milan in the corner as he spoke. Milan's only response was to calmly pull out a small mirror and adjust her hair.

The man not only spoke sharply but also looked fierce. Yet, strangely, Wu Yiliu was not very afraid of him. Shaving his head so short, almost writing his muscles, strength, and ferocity on his forehead, didn't it just prove that he was not really that cruel?

"Actually... I feel the same way," a man sitting in the central sofa said leisurely.

This person was someone Wu Yiliu had spent quite some time observing. Compared to other posthumans, he looked more like an ordinary person, that soft and non-threatening temperament common on the streets. But the other posthumans treated him with great respect—no, respect was a euphemism; it was more like purposeful obsequiousness.

What does this man have in his hands that everyone else wants? This thing or resource must be rare or even unique, and everyone needs it from him; otherwise, everyone wouldn't be speaking to him so courteously.

Ah, this man must be a consular officer.

"People who can recognize Changelings don't need us to remind them to be careful of Changelings. Those who can't recognize them, our reminder would be of no use," the consular officer said, stretching out his legs comfortably. "I can be even more benevolent. Anyone who has come in contact with me, I feel obligated to give a warning; if you all get a chance later, talk about the situation here in the Twelve Worlds Centrum."

"Truly benevolent," said a woman so thin that she looked as if her internal organs were shriveled up.

"Right, so what do we have to be afraid of?" the consular officer said.

As he said this, many heads nodded in agreement.

Something deeply ingrained in humanity, it seems, cannot be shaken off even by posthumans. Well, it makes sense, as decisions, thoughts, and experiences are not tied to one's profession, age, or evolution, but to what kind of person one is.

"Technically speaking, this world ended three months ago. In these three months, I have not been attacked by Changelings..." a man with long eyelashes and thick hair said.

Apart from his hairy appearance, he seemed normal, but upon closer inspection, you would notice a small "dust cloud" fluttering between his eyelashes every time he blinked. He was saying, "I believe this is proof that we don't need to worry. What about you?"

"I haven't either."

"Me neither."

Seeing everyone shake their heads, Wu Yiliu couldn't help but feel anxious. As he was pondering what to say, Milan suddenly interjected.

"It's a bit early to draw this conclusion," she said, smiling innocently at the consular officer. "After all, we still don't know many things... like how long does it take for a posthuman to complete the shape-shifting process?"

"Who cares how long—"

Milan ignored this interruption and continued, "If I were infected, would I report to the Changelings right away or only after the transformation was complete? More importantly, when would my abilities start to disappear? Early, middle, or late stage?"

Everyone was reminded and gradually fell silent.

"If my abilities haven't disappeared yet, but I've already decided to infect more people, then I can easily pretend to be unaffected and get close to another posthuman, infecting them with my abilities. This would be a significant threat to us," Milan said and let this possibility hang in the air for emphasis. "Just because it hasn't happened in the past three months doesn't mean it won't happen in the future."

"We really need to find a transformed posthuman to understand these questions before we can rest easy," said a young man in a loose coat, smiling.

If appearance were a compensation for something lacking in essence, Wu Yiliu felt that this man must be very dangerous. He looked fair and delicate, a seemingly easy target, but Wu Yiliu noticed that in the past two hours, none of the dozen or so posthumans in the room had come within a meter of him.

It's not that everyone was actively avoiding him out of fear; it's more like he has a certain aura that subconsciously told people to keep their distance.

The consular officer sighed irritably.

"Fine then! Divide yourselves into small groups and go look for a Changeling posthuman, and bring them back here if you find one. As for this ordinary person, Milan, keep an eye on him," he said, not even bothering to remember Wu Yiliu's name. With a clap of his hands, he brought the meeting to a close. "It would be good if the target can be found, but if not... I think it's no big deal if everyone is just a bit more cautious."

Wu Yiliu quietly bit his lip.

He hadn't expected that Professor Qiao, who had never even met these posthumans, would guess their reaction so accurately—keeping to themselves, staying aloof. That made sense since they only needed to endure 14 months here; they were just passing through.

As the posthumans began to leave, Milan hung back and walked out the door with Wu Yiliu.

She gave him an apologetic smile, explaining, "Things didn't go as you hoped, did they? That's how posthumans are. Outside the Twelve Worlds Centrum, we don't really form any organization; everyone fights for themselves, surviving on their own. This has become our primary way of dealing with problems. If we can handle it alone, we won't collaborate on anything."

Wu Yiliu nodded silently.

"I can also ask around for you to see who can help you evolve—"

"No need, but thank you," Wu Yiliu interrupted.

Milan seemed slightly surprised, looking at him for a moment. After all, just two days ago, when they had first met, Wu Yiliu had asked her if she could help him evolve.

But what use would it be to evolve him alone?

Over the past two days, he had thought a lot about it. Allowing this world to deteriorate would mean allowing the Changelings to spread; by the time the posthumans could be produced, there would be no normal people left to evolve. If the fate of the Changelings was not worth worrying about, he still couldn't ignore his struggling peers who would eventually be worn down, attacked, or transformed. Only by ending this world quickly could he and other normal people find a way to survive.

"Have you considered whether other normal people don't want to evolve?" Milan asked as they walked down the street. She was quick-witted, and this question was not just out of curiosity; she had probably sensed that Wu Yiliu would not simply leave his fate to others—even posthumans—and was hinting for him to think it over.

"I have," Wu Yiliu replied tersely.

"And?"

He took a deep breath. "I think it's the right thing to do. For me, for them, I believe that's true. So, I don't care what others think. I will act according to what I believe is right."

Milan fell silent.

"You've got your visa for the next world, right?" Wu Yiliu asked. "Where is it for?"

"Gold—" Milan began, then stopped abruptly. "How did you know?"

"It must not have been easy for you to gather so many posthumans alone. Ever since I guessed who the consular officer was, it was easy to explain... All you need to do is find the consular officer who issues your visa, and you'll find all the posthumans connected to him. You've been here for nine months. It's not surprising that you're making plans for the next world," Wu Yiliu said with a smile. "You must be a good customer who can afford visas; otherwise, I doubt he would bother with you."

"Sometimes I really suspect that you're a posthuman in disguise," Milan said with a slow smile that lacked amusement.

She reached out and gently touched Wu Yiliu's shoulder, much like an affectionate girlfriend might—but standing on a busy street, Wu Yiliu suddenly felt a chill as if all his bones were frozen in terror.

"If you ever do evolve, remember this advice from me. Don't repeatedly test the patience of someone stronger than you," she whispered. "You prepared a backup plan for us, didn't you? What is it?"

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