"If a normal person is infected and transford, he will expose the other normal people he knows to the Changelings... Since his mory 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 basent, filling the room with a dim yellow glow.
No matter which direction he looked, a pair of eyes were staring at Wu Yiliu. So were very large and pale; so 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 asuring 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 seed like a strong, strange, different, and resonant stroke of bold ink, forcibly impressing themselves onto his retina.
They had different temperants 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 seed to be only four or five people in the room; but as he spoke more and more, more people seed to erge 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 seed 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 comnts, 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 ti, 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 sa way," a man sitting in the central sofa said leisurely.
This person was soone Wu Yiliu had spent quite so ti observing. Compared to other posthumans, he looked more like an ordinary person, that soft and non-threatening temperant 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 co in contact with , 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 agreent.
Sothing 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 seed normal, but upon closer inspection, you would notice a small "dust cloud" fluttering between his eyelashes every ti he blinked. He was saying, "I believe this is proof that we don't need to worry. What about you?"
"I haven't either."
" 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 an it won't happen in the future."
"We really need to find a transford 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 sothing 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 co within a ter 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 rember Wu Yiliu's na. With a clap of his hands, he brought the eting 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 t 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 beco 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 seed slightly surprised, looking at him for a mont. After all, just two days ago, when they had first t, 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 an allowing the Changelings to spread; by the ti 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 transford. 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 , 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 custor who can afford visas; otherwise, I doubt he would bother with you."
"Sotis I really suspect that you're a posthuman in disguise," Milan said with a slow smile that lacked amusent.
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, rember this advice from . Don't repeatedly test the patience of soone stronger than you," she whispered. "You prepared a backup plan for us, didn't you? What is it?"
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