I walked deep and shallow through the blood-colored mud, and the closer I got to the strange thing, the more I felt its enormity. The distance between me and it, and the volume I saw of it, no longer corresponded to the proportions of common sense, and I could see it increase a hundred times the speed of the distance, as if it were about to pierce into the boundless dark firmament. My vision soon became incomprehensible to all of it, and then not even a tenth of its outline, and when I reached a hundred meters or so of its feet, all I could see was a tiny fraction of its bare rhizome. This huge and strange object, because I could not see all of its appearance, became as if it could be described—the part that appeared in front of me at this time was more like a plant, and the old skin covered with pimples made people feel the vicissitudes of time, but it did not appear to be sorrowful, but still full of the tenacity of life.

It can't make me think of anything more. In the past, I could always associate many things that seemed to be closely related to me through strange scenes, strange phenomena, and unusual appearances, and my mind could not stop at all, my heart was always restless, full of speculation, reasoning, and cranky thoughts, and my emotions fluctuated through these thoughts. I will be troubled, sad, joyful and crying, will make a decision, and make a decision full of emotion.

But all of this ceases to exist when I approach this strange thing, and I can't see it in its entirety.

I felt calm, even though I was surrounded by a blood-colored mud and a sky as black as an abyss filled with ominousness and unease, except for me and this strange thing, which was obviously not a normal situation—but I still felt peace of mind. This calmness is like a spring of Juanjuan, flowing from my brain and watering my heart, so that I know that my situation is full of danger. But I feel that this is a rare beautiful dream since I came into contact with the mystery.

I still seem to be able to feel the sunlight - even though there is no sunlight here, I can smell the sunshine and feel the warmth of the sun - the sunlight seems to penetrate the layers of branches and leaves, cut into pieces, and sprinkle on my body. It's not what you see with your own eyes. It was just a feeling that made me want to moan, be drowsy, and go blank in my head.

I seem to be quite hearing voices. I didn't imagine the sounds, I just felt like I heard them. The voice whispered in my ears, as if walking through the secluded country streets, the few people left behind were moving something, talking as the sound pierced through the wooden partitions that smelled of decay. The ears of me, a passer-by, are full of slow and idle charm. It also prevents me from thinking about it more, just indulging in the aftertaste.

I almost fell asleep. The next moment, however, deep-seated vigilance pulled my sanity back, forcing me to look at such a change from a bad perspective full of conspiracy theories and threat theories -- what would happen if I did fall asleep?

I can't stay here. Calm is wonderful, but I can't catch it. Because only the uncalm heart, the complex and urgent sensibility, the tense nerves, the cranky thoughts that make me uneasy, and the sense of crisis that is constantly fermenting and expanding, have contributed to the fact that I am who I am today. It prompts me to find what I have to do, but which I have not yet done - yes, I cannot rest yet, I cannot rest until I die, my plan is not finished. I have not yet been able to save my loved ones, and I have not been able to see the calm and beautiful world in my observations.

I punched myself hard, it hurt, but it was also calm, blood flowed quietly from my nose and gums, and the tingling sensation made me clench my teeth and force myself into more pain. Use this pain to dispel the feeling of idleness and comfort. At least at this time, I benefited from the apocalyptic truth preached by Father Edward - I was looking for my own pain, some might say it was masochism, but I could not bear to be liberated before my loved ones were freed. I die and come and go, and I live and die, perhaps it is fate, but if this is the foolish path that I can save and must follow, then I am willing to bear it, no, it should be said, it is up to me.

From this distance, with each step forward, the tranquility and beauty that were incompatible with the sinister and strange scenes around me washed my heart more and more silently, and the voices that whispered in my ears were not some exhortations to persuade me to give up, and all the feelings of wanting to be peaceful and calm, wanting to be liberated, were undoubtedly coming from my heart. The more we consciously reject this peace and beauty within our reach, the more tired and painful we feel, and these exhaustion and pain have become the driving force to support the move forward.

The more I resisted, the more I made myself miserable, the more I gave up my inner peace, and the more I insisted on thinking about those malicious things, the more I felt my stupidity.

It would be foolish to let yourself suffer in order to move forward. It would be foolish to throw it away when it is easy to find peace and turn to the malice that makes you miserable.

It was as if I was in heaven, but instead I was looking for hell - I called out to the "river" in my heart, to the pain and fear it brought me. When did you get to this distance where you could reach out and touch this huge strange plant? It was as if my memory had broken in the midst of a struggle between calm and pain.

I've never struggled so hard. My lungs seemed to be flattened, and I couldn't squeeze out a breath of air. My throat burned like a fire, my head was dizzy, and I felt like I was still standing as a miracle - and I didn't look like a mystical expert who was light and healthy, but just an overtired ordinary person.

I used to imagine that at this point, I might still meet Youjiang, meet the Nazis, meet more people, such as Dr. Nguyen Lê, Sitian Yuan Gaco, Father Edward, all kinds of people who died, and even Saya like a giant and black water like the sea, and so on. However, I still did not see them, nor did I feel their existence, as if they were all in the past tense, the fierce battles, the collective and individual wisdom and strength exhausted. The battle between the repeater and the monsters has long since come to an end outside my observations, and the place I am in, the scene here, is only the final result.

It's a world of consciousness, but I don't know it. What kind of world is it, and where is the world of consciousness? Only one thing I know for sure is that this is the last thing you can see in this repeater world - so monotonous, so contradictory, dangerous and weird, but also full of strong loneliness.

"I'm not going to wait." I said to myself, none of the scenarios that I could envisage had come about, and it made me so easy- no. It may not be easy to say - but I am the only one in the here and now.

A ...... alone As I thought, I couldn't help but call out to "Jiang" in my heart.

For a moment, almost delusional, I felt my left eye twitch as if in response to a call.

“…… No waiting, so be it. I said to myself again. Tentatively raised his hand - I don't know what to do next, the enemy is not concrete. The sheer size of this strange thing also made me feel that I should touch it myself before attacking it. Of course, it is dangerous to come into contact with things that you cannot understand, let alone in such an environment full of ominousness. Still, I felt like I had to.

I didn't hesitate for long, and just pressed my hand up. The touch of this strange thing, like its appearance, is indescribable. Not being able to compare anything you have ever touched is like naturally recognizing that the two are fundamentally different, and even if you want to find a similar feeling, you can't do it.

It is not soft, nor hard, nor is it soft with hard or hard with soft, but it is completely different from my own perception of "touch".

At first I just had a very different tactile impression, however, I soon saw the light. When I saw the light, even though the sense of touch was still there, the physical object of the touchable thing disappeared, and even the environment I was in disappeared in an instant, as if the bubble had been punctured. I felt like I was floating in a place where there was nothing, and because I could see the light, I could judge that there was only "darkness" around me. The light I saw came from a certain part of the darkness, and every once in a while, at a short interval, the darkness would shoot out a ray of light, and this light would be long and short, but it was difficult for me to describe how long and short it was.

From all directions, in the darkness, these lights rushed towards the same core, but I could not confirm where this core was. Of course, the light can fill the medium of indication, and the end of its reach is where this core is, but I can only see the light passing around me, and when it wants to move farther ahead, it seems to be quietly obscured by the deep darkness.

I looked at the light carefully, and there was something moving in the light, but I couldn't see what it was, like a human figure, sometimes one, sometimes an infinite number. If there is something in every beam of light, then the number of these things is probably as infinite as the number of lights.

"This is the personality, the conscious personality that is condensing, in the cycle, in the reciprocal shaping of the world." A familiar voice suddenly came from behind me, "Ah Chuan, do you remember?" The terrible thing about Claudia White is that it connects the spirits of the infected in a distorted way, separating the conscious and physical actions of the infected - people feel that they have done something but they have not actually done it, that they feel that they have done it, but they have not done it. Although it is still unclear what the mechanism of the infected person is to behave in a way that is not in line with his or her wishes, it is certain that when the infected person does something bad, he does not feel that he or she has done something bad. ”

I didn't look back, because although I heard the voice, I couldn't feel her presence. I was afraid that when I turned my head, I wouldn't see anything, and I wouldn't hear it again.

"Mom ......" is Dr. Nguyen Li.

"This is the internal mental network of White Claudia, the place where all the infected person's personality information is stored. White Claudia, a plant-like alien life that does not know its origin and identity, will use this vast amount of personality information to shape what the infected can observe for themselves, because the observation can be experienced for themselves, and the incomparably real world can affect themselves and produce feedback. Dr. Nguyen Li's voice was so soothing and calm, not as if answering my questions, but like telling a story full of fantasy: "All the patients who are sick because of Claudia White's infection have mental abnormalities that are based on the idea of shaping such a world. What can come here is the non-material manifestation of the spirit, consciousness, personality, and so on, which has deteriorated to a certain extent, and what makes this lesion worsen is the diseased body. ”

This description is familiar, as the real-life researchers in the hospital said when they popularized the relationship between "virus" and "doomsday syndrome" and the process of the lesion.

"The diseased body distorts the spirit, and the distorted spirit enters the paradise of the self, in which the personality changes, and the changed personality is connected to each other in the form of information, and the connected information shapes the new world. This new world is the real world only for the patient. "If you can understand what I am talking about, you will definitely understand that there must be a center in this world." Any aggregation must form a center, or it is a center that already exists, releasing a gravitational pull that contributes to the phenomenon of aggregation. ”

"Psychic Integration Device." Under the reminder of Dr. Nguyen Li, I couldn't help but think of the key to all repeaters. Is the scene in front of you what the spiritual integration device looks like?

"Psychic integration device?" Dr. Ruan Li seemed to laugh, not very clearly, but her voice did not stop: "This name is quite appropriate. Ah Chuan, if there are no special circumstances, it is impossible for any patient to stand in the perspective of this bystander and observe the scene in front of him, because the spirit of all patients has existed in this scene from the beginning and is part of the composition of this scene. ”

So, what happened to me that turned me into what Dr. Nguyen Le called a "special case"? Is Dr. Nguyen Le herself in this "special situation"? I couldn't help but wonder, if I was left to think and imagine, I could give an uncertain answer, but I wanted to know how Dr. Nguyen Li in this repeater world saw all this. (To be continued.) )