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Doomsday Wonderland (Web Novel) - Chapter 1518: Ideological Work
Chapter 1518: Ideological Work
This chapter is updated by JustRead.pl
A vague thought arose in Lin Sanjiu’s mind: she had underestimated Master Zhang.
These game makers had weak combat capabilities, harbored hidden agendas, and were disjointed, so even though they could manipulate words, she had never really been afraid of them. Take Master Zhang for example; even if he had just heard that the girl hadn’t died, he wouldn’t have rashly thrown out a word like “death” when dealing with Lin Sanjiu. Unlike the rash behavior of some young people, Master Zhang would consider even a 0.1% risk too great when it came to his own life.
Similarly, he would never use words like “unconscious.” If both were to fall unconscious, it would be as good as both being dead, as other game makers who found them would certainly not miss such an opportunity. Since she wouldn’t die or lose consciousness, could she not endure whatever negative effects might come, compared to Master Zhang?
Of course, all these thoughts were before she actually saw the words.
Now all she could hear was Mrs. Manas’s continuous calls, as if she were a dying person, needing to call her name to keep her attention. “Lin Sanjiu! Lin Sanjiu, think about it, what you are feeling now is induced by the words, you mustn’t—”
Lin Sanjiu stood there, looking at Master Zhang across from her, with the half-written [Migratory Letters] still in her hand.
Master Zhang had regained his composure. Though his stomach bulged, making him appear fat and heavy, this very heaviness gave him a calm and unhurried air. He glanced at the paper in Lin Sanjiu’s hand, sized up her expression, and then slowly said, “Come, let me have a look.”
As if controlled by someone, his voice instantly made Mrs. Manas’s voice waver, weaken, and fade, like a dry, yellow, and meaningless historical document.
Lin Sanjiu fell silent for a few seconds, then obediently walked over and handed him the [Migratory Letters].
A hint of pleasure appeared on Master Zhang’s face. He took the paper, lowered his eyelids to read the words, and asked, “You have no objections to handing this over to me, do you?”
“No, no,” Lin Sanjiu quickly answered. She herself was not used to this newfound feeling, as if she was afraid of a misunderstanding if she answered too slowly. She had to choose her words carefully, not out of concern as when facing Puppeteer, but out of a strange, obsequious respect.
She didn’t like this feeling, and Mrs. Manas in her mind never gave up trying to speak, but these discordant notes were suppressed and dissolved under the power of the words behind Master Zhang.
The two characters for “authority” and “power,” standing two or three meters high, pushed against the ceiling, forming a fusion of light and shadow behind Master Zhang. Each summoned word had its own character, but none were as stern, vast, and heavy as these; their intense and undeniable white light seemed to solidify with the strokes, turning at the edge and casting a startling deep darkness.
Before these two characters, people ceased to exist.
Whoever they stood behind, existed. Lin Sanjiu dared not look directly at them, nor did she dare look away, all for the same reason.
Master Zhang had completely relaxed. His words also affected him, so his actions and speech increasingly took on the demeanor of a big shot. He shook the piece of paper in his hand and slowly said, “You have another accomplice here, huh.”
Fortunately, most of the conversation had been pushed up by the new writing and disappeared from the paper; apart from “Poe has her accomplice,” Master Zhang could not discern any other information.
“Yes,” Lin Sanjiu replied, quickly suppressing the urge to divulge more. It was hard to describe what she was feeling; she wanted to bow, to bend, to praise, but also to struggle, to flee, to knock him down. But she dared not. She didn’t dare to do anything but stand still, because Master Zhang had not asked her to smile, nor forced her to rebel.
“You’re the woman who burst out earlier, right?” Master Zhang lifted his eyelids and looked at her. “Restore yourself to your original appearance; let me see.”
What could he do to her if she didn’t obey? Lin Sanjiu couldn’t think of a specific possible consequence, but as soon as she slightly contemplated the word “disobedience,” she felt as though she was about to slip off the edge of a cliff. Even her stomach was tightly knotted.
She removed her disguise.
Master Zhang’s eyes widened, and he nodded several times, saying, “Hmm, unexpectedly, you’re not bad.” Something clicked in his mind. “So, that so-called humanoid Special Item you had earlier was actually your accomplice, right? He’s not a humanoid Special Item at all?”
Lin Sanjiu lowered her eyelids and nodded. She seemed to have regressed into a child, limp and without any initiative.
Master Zhang smacked his lips. “What about Edgar Allan Poe? How much does he know?”
“He doesn’t know our identity; he thinks my companion is one of the game makers,” she answered hoarsely.
Master Zhang frowned. “Why did he say that the girl isn’t dead? Don’t think you can hide it from me; did the girl die or not?”
“She’s dead…”
“Why did he say she didn’t die?”
Lin Sanjiu felt her teeth chattering. Exposing herself was one thing; voluntarily betraying Yu Yuan was another matter altogether. Her fingernails dug deep into her palm, blood rushing to her head as she squeezed out the words, “Because my friend… he pretended to be…”
She couldn’t finish the second half of the sentence, but even if she clamped her lips shut and said no more, it was pointless. Master Zhang nodded and sighed.
“What a pity,” he said. “Edgar Allan Poe has already sent the message out. Now everyone knows that the girl isn’t dead and that your identity is suspicious. They are not completely foolish… You see this phone, don’t you?”
Lin Sanjiu wished she could keep one eye on the phone and the other on the characters for “authority” and “power”—she was suspicious that if she looked away, they would silently crush her into dust, scattering her in the wind.
“It’s not actually a phone. I’m rather nostalgic, so I set up my internal messaging system to look like this,” Master Zhang said and paced a few steps with his hands behind his back. “But as soon as there’s a message, it will play it for me. I don’t need to make individual calls to send messages. You see, it’s been quite a while since Edgar Allan Poe’s message, and I haven’t received any messages from others.”
Lin Sanjiu didn’t make a sound, quietly waiting for him to continue.
“What does this mean?” He waved his hand and sneered. “You entered my room, and they all clearly saw. Now that your identity is suddenly in question, and you haven’t come out, they’re probably thinking either I’ve been unlucky… or I’ve already taken control of you.”
Master Zhang paused here for a moment.
“These people, they’re not very brave. They won’t dare to come in for a while… but if we stay in the room longer, they’ll want to come in and see.”
Master Zhang looked at Lin Sanjiu and smiled almost kindly. “Until then, I think your ideology needs to be properly cultivated.”
