Chapter 1137: Chapter 75: The Illusory Song of the Cyber Ghost (Part 5)_3
When she left, she was in such a hurry, thinking only of her guitar and forgetting the umbrella. But going out with Gongsun Ce never required rain gear; his Telekinesis always conveniently shielded everyone from wind and rain. Thinking of this, Qiluo’s mood sank further. Whenever sothing happened, she still thought of asking Gongsun Ce for help, still unable to accomplish anything on her own.
Qiluo ran away halfway through Waluo Sect Leader’s preaching, not because she couldn’t understand, but because she had heard it too many tis before. The Priest was just like her parents, so rigid and devoid of empathy, always speaking in harsh realities and grand principles. Every ti she heard their preaching, Qiluo felt a blockage in her heart; those words were like transparent walls tightly blocking her path in life. The world seed vast, but wherever she turned, she hit a wall, and could only walk the path they chose for her.
Once, Qiluo couldn’t hold back and retorted that everyone has the right to pursue their own dreams, only to be t with even more furious scolding. How dare you think you can succeed? What will you do if you can’t support yourself in the future? Your parents will want to rely on you in their old age, and in several decades, whom are we supposed to rely on if you insist on doing things your own way? Such words fell heavily, and no matter how much dissatisfaction she had, she was left speechless; further argunt would only brand her as immature, unfilial, and unreasonable. Her face beca blank, unable to muster any extra emotion, forcing out an obedient smile, saying, “Mom and Dad, you’re right. I understand.”
Thinking about it now, it’s truly laughable. In another 20 years, maybe the whole world will be on the brink of destruction, yet she still dreams of her aspirations.
Qiluo felt increasingly suffocated, her chest tight and breathless. She fumbled for her phone, hoping to talk to soone, anyone.
The phone screen lit up, showing no signal in the top right corner.
Qiluo’s eyes widened as a belated warning stabbed into her brain like a needle. This was the largest city in the State of Real Sound; how could there be no signal here? Why had she only now realized she’d lost communication? Gongsun Ce had always been cautious and protective of her. How could he allow her to go out alone without a word of contact by now?
The torrential rain fell to the ground, white splashes dampening the surface of her little boots. Only then did Qiluo notice the street had beco deserted without her realizing it, not a single pedestrian in the rain, the world empty as if she were the only one left. Qiluo panicked, knowing this was anything but normal. She retraced her steps, heading back to the hotel where everyone stayed.
She didn’t dare take a bus or go to the subway station. In her hidden state, no enemy could spot her imdiately, so she needed to be extra cautious, avoiding falling into a trap. The enemy’s large-scale Spiritual Attack was targeted specifically at her. She knew she had no defenses around her, and once caught, it would be her doom.
Qiluo ran silently in the rain, not daring to make a sound. She told herself not to think about anything, find the others, and she’d be safe, not to let her thoughts run wild and disturb her emotions. Yet her pace slowed. Qiluo heard voices, people talking amidst the rain, the raindrops creating an illusionary water screen.
It was two n in white coats, holding coffee cups, chatting idly in a lab.
“How’s the progress on the doppelgänger ability project?”
The younger man in the white coat was animated, “Going great. I found out the girl wants to be an idol, so I went to the doctor for so funding, promising to help her achieve her dream. She signed the contract right away, completely legal and watertight, no issues at all.”
“You’ve really got a knack for this! This long-term project will keep us supplied with materials for at least three years.” His senior looked envious, “But do you have enough funding? I rember the professional tuning equipnt is quite expensive…”
“Just use so outdated junk to fool her; are we really going to spend money on her?” The young man in the white coat was disdainful, “I saved 70% of the budget this ti!”
“Hey, how are you going to save on the composition budget?”
“Let her do it herself; the contract only promises assistance. Who cares how she struggles!” The white coat boasted, “Anyway, after the experint, she won’t lose her mory, so there’s nothing to worry about.”
“That’s cold~”
“Didn’t they choose this themselves? If you want a chance to achieve your dreams, you’ve got to pay the corresponding price.”
The water screen dispersed as the two moved away, Qiluo biting her lips tightly, using the pain as a reminder not to fall into the trap. That must have been sothing that happened long ago. She had just signed a contract with the people in white coats, ready for collaboration. At that ti, she was still a naïve girl, thinking it was a profitable deal, never imagining what price she would pay.
Qiluo forced herself to move forward, not to be swayed by illusions. But the rain continued, new illusions shadowing her every move, her vision unyielding because the sa scene surrounded her. This ti, Qiluo saw herself newly debuted, interacting with industry seniors, receiving cold jeers about her poor resources.
“You’re still using equipnt from 10 years ago? How shabby is your agency?” mocked a senior who debuted a year earlier.
“Writing your own music? Don’t be silly; do you really think you can compete with AI?” An old tir lectured while smoking, “Don’t waste your artistic talent like that; switch to new software sooner rather than later to avoid going astray.”
That day, Qiluo realized that the industry had rarely seen natural singers for more than a decade. Everyone’s voice underwent countless tunings, and all songs were customized with special software, a genius couldn’t stand out without technical and financial support. Her equipnt was poor; her backing was limited to the handouts from the people in white coats. She could only write and compose by herself.
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