Chapter Sixteen: Into the River

Sophia’s composure vanished in an instant; the person on the stainless steel platform disappeared without a trace, leaving behind only a few strands of hair. She strode forward, palm pressed to the cold surface, her gaze sharp as a blade as she looked at the white-coated technicians. A terrifying aura erupted from her, causing them to tremble and drop to their knees.

“No transmission chamber, and you just sent Slave Twenty-Eight’s body straight through? I see—perhaps you did this on purpose. Should I send you all to the mission world as well? Or maybe I should report you to the Intelligence Core right now for harming a Marked Chosen One?”

The last words were forced through gritted teeth, and the technicians began to plead for mercy, voices quivering.

“Miss Sophia, please understand, we meant no harm! We don’t know whether it was an issue with Slave Twenty-Eight’s body or the effect of the mark, but he went straight into the mission world without our intervention. However…”

Sophia’s eyes narrowed as she turned to the speaker—Carter, head of the enslaved, Waldner’s trusted aide.

“Get up. Find out exactly where Slave Twenty-Eight was sent. And you—speak plainly. Or do you expect me to comfort you?”

The man shuddered, hastily approaching her. He knew Sophia’s reputation: gentle in appearance, ruthless in reality. When another Chosen One once resisted Waldner, Sophia had destroyed him in front of everyone.

“Yes, Miss. What I mean is, there’s already a replica in this world. Although Slave Twenty-Eight’s body went through, the memories he received are those of the replica. In other words, both will do the same things. If we find the replica, we’ll find him.”

Sophia’s eyes narrowed further; there was not a hint of relief on her face. The explanation sounded reasonable, but what she truly feared was: what would happen if Slave Twenty-Eight met an exact copy of himself? Would he destroy the other, would conflict erupt, or would his memories awaken on the spot?

None of these outcomes were desirable. Sophia’s brow furrowed; she sighed and waved her hand to dismiss them.

“Mr. Waldner has just undergone an unstable upgrade—do not disturb him. I won’t be able to protect you if you do. If any mission personnel return, whether slaves or those six Chosen Ones, put them under hypnosis. Assign no new missions. No one is to be awakened until I return. Now, send my body to World 2015. I’ll find Slave Twenty-Eight and deal with the replica. By the way, what distinguishes the replica from Slave Twenty-Eight?”

The technician hesitated. The question stumped him. He glanced at his colleagues, eyes darting, then suddenly pointed to the main screen with a grin.

“The mark—that six-pointed star is unique to Slave Twenty-Eight. There may be differences in memory, but only the system can detect them. They can’t be distinguished by the naked eye.”

Sophia nodded. She raised her wrist and tapped a bracelet-like device. Pressing its edges, a projected interface appeared. She selected several options, and the floor split open. A pod, much like a space capsule, was brought up.

The white-coated staff were unfazed, immediately swarming the pod to transmit the necessary data and operate the controls. Carter, their leader, nodded to Sophia. Only then did she step into the transmission pod, lying down with her arms folded across her chest. The lid sealed over her, blue light swirling around the pod as the base filled with the accelerating hum of energy. With a final whoosh, the pod vanished from its spot.

Carter’s knees nearly gave out—he wiped sweat from his brow and quickly ordered the team, “Check immediately—did Miss Sophia land in the same place as Slave Twenty-Eight?”

They began the search. The wall of screens lit up with the tracking system, countless blue dots flickering and shifting. The group filtered through the data. The youngest among them pushed up his goggles, revealing a half-mechanical face, and exclaimed, “Chief, we can’t distinguish which is the replica. Those two brightest blue dots are them. They’re only a few kilometers apart. Miss Sophia was transmitted to a mountaintop for safety, over a hundred kilometers from here.”

Carter raised a hand, cutting off further comment. “We’ve done all we can. Leave three on surveillance—if Miss Sophia is in danger, recall her at once. The rest of you, monitor the labs. All base operations are suspended for now. Carry out your orders.”

…

Zhou Yi’s body was wracked with exhaustion, his head feeling as if it would explode. He raised a trembling hand to press against his skull. The sensation was wet and cold, and, opening his eyes, he was stunned by the scene before him.

He was inside a car, the windows revealing only murky water outside. Inside, the water had almost reached his shoulders. The sunroof hadn’t been shut tight, and water poured relentlessly through the gap.

Panic shot through him. He yanked the central lock—no sound, he couldn’t tell if it had worked. He pushed at the door, but it didn’t budge. He fumbled underwater, finally managing to unclip the seatbelt, floating upward as it released. Lacking any tools, he kicked the windshield repeatedly, but it didn’t move.

The water level rose again, only twenty centimeters from the car roof now. Zhou Yi knew he couldn’t panic—otherwise, he’d drown for certain.

He turned, grabbed the headrest, and braced himself on the seat, pulling upward with all his strength. After a struggle, he wrenched it free. Gulping in a few precious breaths in the shrinking air pocket, he swung the metal prongs of the headrest at the car window’s corners, again and again, until finally a corner cracked.

Water surged in, just as only four or five centimeters of space remained. Zhou Yi floated up, snatching what air he could—he had no idea what awaited outside, and if the water was too deep, he’d pass out from lack of oxygen before reaching the surface.

Filling his lungs, Zhou Yi used the headrest to smash out the broken glass and squeezed through. He kicked toward the light above, paddling fiercely. Time lost all meaning. Just as despair set in, he broke the surface.

Wiping water from his face, he looked around. He was in a river, a bridge stretching across above him. The guardrail was broken, and on the embankments on either side, people pointed and shouted. Some even called out loudly.

Though his mind was foggy, he realized at once: he must have crashed through the railing and fallen in.

Not far off, a man waved a fishing rod, shouting, “You’re lucky, kid! Drove straight into the river and lived! Grab the rod, quick—I’ll pull you up. The undercurrents from Shiye Town are dangerous. Don’t let them drag you under! Forget the car—your life’s more important than your money!”

Zhou Yi wasted no words, swimming toward the fishing rod. Sure enough, the currents tugged him toward the center of the river. Gritting his teeth, Zhou Yi fought with all his strength, finally grasping the rod’s tip.

Several people rushed to the bank, helping the middle-aged man haul him in. Together, they dragged Zhou Yi to shore, gripping his clothes and belt until he was finally safe.

Zhou Yi collapsed on the embankment, utterly spent, not moving an inch.

The crowd’s shouts rang out, a chorus of celebration—they’d saved him before the police or fire brigade had even arrived. The sense of achievement was palpable.

The middle-aged man tossed his fishing rod aside and slapped Zhou Yi’s face, not gently.

Smack! Smack! Smack!

“Hey, kid, you alright? Life not good enough for you? What were you thinking, driving into the river?”