Chapter 79: Dormant
Before falling completely asleep, Ji Minghuan squeezed out a bit of time to enter his mental world.
When he opened his eyes, what he saw was a library. Outside the window, the setting sun hung low. Beneath a sky like blood, the lingering glow of dusk stretched the two shadows on the floor.
Ji Minghuan lowered his eyes and glanced expressionlessly at the shadows on the ground, then slowly raised his head to look at “Black Cocoon” and “The Player” hanging from the ceiling.
Their limbs dangled downward, heads drooping, completely motionless.
Black Cocoon looked like a wet black umbrella hung up to dry.
The Player resembled a piece of jerky meat hung on a butcher’s hook, slowly rotting under the sunset.
Today, with nothing better to do, Ji Minghuan had suddenly figured it out—why, after creating game characters, his mental world manifested these two “corpses.”
Because they weren’t actually corpses. They were “proxy personalities”—the system had said before: if he didn’t activate “Full Split Mode,” then whenever he wasn’t controlling the game avatars himself, the proxy personalities would take over the operation of the bodies.
From that perspective, calling them “tool personalities” wasn’t wrong either.
So once Ji Minghuan activated Full Split Mode, the proxy personalities effectively “died” temporarily… and during that time, they behaved like AIs, constantly learning his behavioral patterns, absorbing his experiences, preparing for the next “awakening.” The moment Full Split Mode was turned off, these two corpses would immediately come to life again, taking over the bodies of “Black Cocoon” and “The Player.”
Sounds convenient—but Ji Minghuan didn’t want to take that risk. At least until the auction ended, it was best if he handled everything personally.
He leaned back into the last row of the library, picked up a novel, and the white-haired girl’s phantom appeared beside him, silently reading with him until drowsiness crept in. Ji Minghuan slowly closed his eyelids, and not long after, sank deeply into slumber.
Thud—the book in his hand fell to the floor.
The night passed in silence.
Whatever time it was in the holding cell didn’t matter. On the Japan side, the body woke up right at dawn on July 14. There were now seven days left until the Tokyo Underground Auction began.
“Just die already...”
Ji Minghuan yawned, as usual saying his daily morning blessing.
Refreshed and alert.
He then controlled Unit Two “Xia Pingzhou” to slowly get out of bed, pulled up the character’s Attributes Panel, and quickly allocated the Attribute Points gained from yesterday’s Main Quest.
[Your Unit Two “The Player” has changed: ‘Mind’ Attribute upgraded: B → B+ (The power of your Chess Piece is enhanced accordingly)]
He then opened the Character Skill Tree Panel.
[Branch 1 (Swarm): Recruit Pawns (learned) → Pawn Training (learned) → Forge Rook (requires 1 Skill Point to learn)...]
[Branch 2 (Valor): Chess Piece Evolution (condition: requires total of 3 Skill Points spent in other branches before it can be learned) (requires 1 Skill Point to learn) → Unknown → Unknown...]
[Branch 3 (Soul): Demon Hunter (requires 1 Skill Point to learn) → Unknown → Unknown...]
Ji Minghuan just skimmed over it; his skill point strategy remained unchanged.
Hmm… first forge the Rook, then go for Branch 2’s “Chess Piece Evolution.” That’s the fastest way to boost short-term combat power. With that in mind, he held down the Forge Rook skill icon until it gleamed with a red-black glow.
[1 Skill Point consumed. Successfully learned “Forge Rook” under Branch ‘Swarm’ (Forge a new Rook piece in your Chess Arsenal).]
[Next skill in Branch ‘Swarm’ now unlocked for learning.]
Ji Minghuan rubbed his temples and glanced at the newly unlocked skill under “Swarm.”
[Cavalry Training: Train one of your pawns into a Cavalry unit—mounted on a warhorse, equipped with a lance. When Cavalry is present, all other pawns gain significant combat boosts.]
“A Cavalry Commander, huh… wonder if its speed on horseback can match the Queen Colossus.”
He picked up the phone beside his pillow, powered it on, and glanced at the incoming texts.
[Origami Ayase: Units 4 and 9 arrived in Japan today. Come meet them—and I’ve got something to tell you.]
It was sent at 4 a.m. Clearly, this kimono girl was a total night owl.
[Xia Pingzhou: What time?]
[Origami Ayase: Right now. West District of Minato Ward, that abandoned amusement park. We’ll be waiting.]
[Xia Pingzhou: On my way.]
He washed up, then put on his human-skin mask in front of the mirror. Only after the face fully molded to his skin and the person in the mirror had become someone else did he grab his keycard and leave the room.
Ji Minghuan took the elevator to the ground floor. Not long after stepping out of the hotel, he saw a familiar figure on the street. When he looked up from his phone, the tall figure had already brushed past him.
“Dad?”
Ji Minghuan was inwardly surprised for a moment. He turned his head slightly and glanced back from the corner of his eye.
Gu Zhuo’an’s back looked a bit hunched, unsteady on his feet. The smell of alcohol was heavy on him—not completely drunk, but clearly he’d had a lot.
Recently, because of the “Underground Bar Explosion” caused by Arlens, all bars in the Tokyo area had been temporarily shut down pending official investigation. Only izakayas were still open.
So Ji Minghuan guessed: his dad probably went to some late-night izakaya to drink away his sorrows and had just now started heading back to the hotel.
Ji Minghuan remembered that after his mother’s death, Gu Zhuo’an had been a hopeless alcoholic. But lately, at home at least, he’d been behaving—neither Gu Qiye nor Ji Minghuan had smelled alcohol on him.
Yet now, here in Tokyo, he’d fallen back into old habits.
Of course, Gu Zhuo’an probably still hadn’t let go of letting the Rainbow Wing members escape at the airport. Knowing he watched the very people he’d been hunting for years just walk away—how could he possibly sleep?
With his personality, there’s no way he’d forgive himself anytime soon. He could only rely on alcohol to numb his anger and regret...
“Come on, Dad’s mental state is already such a mess... If I pile on more, he’s gonna explode, isn’t he?”
Ji Minghuan had originally planned to give him the recorder today, and tell him that the one who’d been blocking him all along—Blue Arc—was actually his beloved son, Gu Qiye.
But seeing Gu Zhuo’an like this, Ji suddenly felt worried—would this old man totally lose control afterward? Would he do something crazy and irrational?
Truthfully, Ji Minghuan didn’t even know whether he really had feelings for them or if it was just all about utility—use them if they’re useful.
He did have Gu Wenyu’s memories, but that didn’t mean he was Gu Wenyu. He’d only skimmed through those memories like a movie.
Like watching some absurdly long film, or finishing a massive novel.
And when you finish such a long story, sure—you might develop subtle emotions for the characters.
But it’s hard to truly step into a book’s world, to genuinely connect with the people inside—because there’s always an unbreachable barrier between reader and character.
“Dad has to attend this auction, save his precious son and daughter. Make sure they don’t die... Otherwise my Unit One loses two main questlines—might as well scrap it.”
Thinking that, Ji Minghuan didn’t hesitate anymore. He synced his consciousness into Unit One, “Gu Wenyu.”
He controlled Black Cocoon to rise from bed, pulled the recorder from his suitcase, gripped it in hand, wrapped his whole body in Binding Restraints, phased into invisibility, then climbed out the window.
Gu Zhuo’an had drunk quite a bit and looked tired. He couldn’t have gone far. As long as he was still in Tokyo’s Minato Ward, with Black Cocoon’s elite tracking skills, locating an unguarded Gu Zhuo’an wouldn’t be difficult.
“No matter if he breaks down or not... today, I have to tell him Blue Arc’s identity.”
In the fleeting seconds that followed, Ji Minghuan made his decision. While thinking, he withdrew his gaze from Gu Zhuo’an’s back and controlled Unit Two to move forward—
Walking in the opposite direction, he gradually disappeared into the crowd at the intersection.