Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 982: Like an Inheritance

When Solomon and Daji, as a two-person team, discovered Lord Longyang, he was sitting at the edge of a desolate land, eyes closed, playing an instrument called a sheng.

Daji was no stranger to the sheng. When she lived in the imperial palace, she had her own team of musicians and even a personal teacher.

Solomon, however, was intrigued by this peculiar instrument. Even though all of them lived in the dimensional rift, there wasn't necessarily a close connection between Transcendents.

Without the urgency from the Thrones, they were mostly separated. Of course, some Transcendents had deeper or more personal relationships.

Solomon knew of Lord Longyang’s existence but had rarely spoken with him. Their meetings were usually just brief greetings. On the other hand, Daji had a fairly good private relationship with Longyang.

"Lord Longyang, I’ve sought you out many times just to hear you play a tune." Daji smiled slightly. "But it's always been an unattainable luxury. What has brought you such refined leisure today?"

Lord Longyang set down his sheng, stood up, and nodded at Daji with a smile. "I was simply inspired. If you enjoy it, I’ll personally visit and perform for you another day."

Daji’s smile was enchanting—she seemed to possess an innate charm that even Transcendents found difficult to resist.

Many times, Solomon had to consciously avoid looking into Daji’s eyes. It wasn’t that his willpower was weak, but Daji’s power stemmed from those mesmerizing eyes.

It wasn’t just him—many Transcendents struggled to handle Daji’s beauty, especially men. Perhaps only someone like Lord Longyang was immune to such effects.But now was not the time for idle chatter.

Solomon said seriously, "Lord Longyang, Daji and I have captured quite a few Abyssal Demons. Recently, we even encountered a fully evolved Void Ancestor. We’ve exceeded the mission given by the Thrones. What about you? I didn’t expect to run into you here."

Perhaps this was a good opportunity to communicate more with Lord Longyang.

Even though he had become a Transcendent, as a former emperor of the mortal world, the instinct to form alliances was deeply ingrained in him.

"My luck hasn’t been great—I only caught one. However, this Abyssal Demon is quite interesting." Longyang glanced at Solomon and briefly explained the details of his captured humanoid-serpent Void Demon.

He looked at Solomon, his eyes gleaming slightly, and chuckled. "It’s a high-quality one. It might have had the potential to go far as a Void Demon… Using it for the Thrones’ plan feels like a bit of a waste."

"Haha, that’s an easy fix." Solomon laughed heartily. "I have extra ones. If you don’t mind, I can give you one."

"I’d be extremely grateful." Longyang didn’t refuse. Instead, he looked at the once-mighty foreign emperor with a somewhat intense gaze.

Daji glanced back and forth between the two, then narrowed her eyes slightly, as if anticipating something interesting.

Unexpectedly, Longyang suddenly asked, "By the way, has a new member joined recently?"

Solomon was momentarily stunned and replied instinctively, "I haven’t heard of any. However, some of our guides recently found a few promising newcomers. The one most favored by the Thrones is someone called Eric, but he’s currently receiving guidance from Lord Qicha Disha and hasn’t appeared yet. The others are still in the assessment phase… So, who are you referring to?"

"Eric?" Longyang was surprised. "To have earned that lord’s recognition… He must have immense potential. Hmm, the one I encountered, I didn’t have time to ask his name. But from the way he acted, he seemed unfamiliar with this dimensional rift, so I doubt he’s one of the chosen newcomers."

"Oh?" Daji became interested. "If he didn’t arrive through proper guidance, then there are only a few possibilities. Either he reached a level where he could sense his inability to remain in the main world, or he accidentally stumbled into a hidden dimensional gap."

Longyang recalled, "This young man was unusual. He claimed to have come here looking for something… so I doubt he arrived by accident."

"That means he got here on his own?" Solomon’s eyes lit up. "The Thrones highly value those who transcend by their own power. We should report this news immediately. Lord Longyang, what does he look like?"

For Transcendents, their minds had developed beyond conventional limits. Photographic memory was practically an instinct.

"This is easy." Longyang smiled. "Perhaps someone among our allies will recognize him… Let me sketch him out."

With that, Longyang unsheathed his sword, intending to draw with it.

He closed his eyes and stood still with his sword. However, after a long while, there was no movement.

Daji had seen Longyang’s artwork before—his sketches were always lifelike. But now, something seemed wrong.

"Lord Longyang, is something the matter?" Daji asked softly.

Longyang finally opened his eyes, his expression strange. He frowned slightly and said, "I… can’t remember what that young man looked like."

"What?" Solomon was shocked.

Daji also looked surprised.

"I can remember what he said, but his appearance is completely blurred in my memory." Longyang took a deep breath. "When I tried to recall it, the memory only became more indistinct."

"Oh?" Solomon raised an eyebrow. "Could this newcomer have an ability that alters or erases memories? If so, that’s a troublesome power."

"In that case, we should report this to the Thrones immediately," Daji suggested.

Longyang nodded. "Agreed."

---

Meanwhile, when Luo Qiu returned to the entrance of the dimensional rift from the mirror world, the floating wasteland where he had landed was gone. The surroundings were now nothing but void.

He didn’t find Paul. His intuition told him that searching further in the rift would be futile, but Paul wasn’t dead—so only one possibility remained.

As Luo Qiu slowly ascended through the passage, the dimensional rift quickly closed behind him.

The moment he fully left the abyssal passage, everything returned to normal—the mirror world’s passage transformed back into the pristine airport lobby.

Beneath his feet was a spotless floor so reflective it could mirror his face.

"Luo Qiu!"

The moment he arrived, he heard Song Ying’s anxious voice. Luo Qiu turned toward the sound and saw her standing there, looking distressed.

Song Haoran was also present—but completely motionless. Or rather, he had turned into a statue.

He was entirely petrified.

"What happened?" Luo Qiu approached Song Ying and glanced at Alaya.

Song Ying hesitated, while Alaya answered without hesitation:

[Response: This individual was deemed a potential threat. Behavioral restriction was recommended.]

Luo Qiu looked at Song Ying, who sighed helplessly. "You know what Haoran is like… He’s not a bad person, just overly curious. He probably asked too many questions…"

She didn’t dare mention that Haoran had tried to secretly record their conversation.

But seeing the shattered phone on the ground, Luo Qiu had already guessed as much.

Song Haoran was only temporarily petrified—his life was not in danger.

A timeline is like a finely tuned clock, with every individual being an essential component. As a sub-administrator of this world, Alaya wouldn’t recklessly destroy any part of it.

"Has the timeline’s disturbance been resolved?" Luo Qiu asked Alaya.

[Response: The instability has been neutralized.]

Luo Qiu nodded. "Continue as usual. Unless something urgent arises, I won’t interfere with the mirror world."

This time, Alaya remained silent.

Then, Luo Qiu casually waved his hand—Song Ying and Song Haoran vanished from the mirror world.

Looking at the spot where Han Bingjiang’s corpse had been, Luo Qiu found it missing—no doubt already "taken care of."

As for the recreated Joan, she had now opened her eyes.

However, her gaze was empty, devoid of spirit—like a puppet. Once she fully "activated," no one would be able to tell the difference.

"You seem quite used to this," Luo Qiu said with a faint smile.

[Affirmation: This is the 19,235th case. The database provides ample references.]

"It looks like you're quite used to this kind of operation." Luo Qiu said with a slight smile.

Alaya responded, "Affirmative: This is the 19,235th incident. The database has ample cases for reference."

"19,235…" Luo Qiu was slightly surprised. In a world with such a vast population, this number was just a drop in the ocean—yet, nearing 20,000 was still not a small figure.

He pondered for a moment—there wasn’t much he truly wanted to know from Alaya.

Except for one thing.

"You… aside from me, have you ever seen another Root Authority?" Luo Qiu looked into Alaya's eyes.

The light within her blue pupils flickered continuously. Luo Qiu had noticed that whenever Alaya was analyzing or thinking, her eyes always had this glow.

He waited.

"Answer: No."

"No?" Luo Qiu was momentarily stunned. After a brief silence, he suddenly asked, "If a Root Authority were to command you to delete a certain part of your memory, would you comply?"

"Affirmative: Root Authority is above sub-administrators."

Luo Qiu nodded without saying anything further. Then, right before Alaya's eyes, he slowly retreated. As he did, his figure gradually faded from this mirrored world.

In the near-deathly silent mirrored world, only Alaya’s emotionless voice remained.

"Executing correction protocol follow-up..."

She raised her hand, bringing the newly recreated "Joan" to life once more.

---

When Song Haoran regained consciousness, he found himself back at the same airport where he had first been pulled into the mirrored world—the place where Han Bingjiang had encountered three different "Joans."

"Song Ying?" Song Haoran instinctively looked at Song Ying.

Song Ying shook her head, looking both flustered and worried. "Are you okay? You have no idea—you turned completely into stone just now! You really scared me!"

Song Haoran frowned, then suddenly said, "Give me your phone!"

"Why are you still thinking about that—" Song Ying was about to scold him when she saw Song Haoran suddenly roll up his sleeve.

His wrist was covered in fresh blood. Song Ying gasped. "When did you get hurt?"

Song Haoran didn't answer. Instead, he quickly wiped away the blood from the wound. As the blood cleared, the mark beneath it became visible.

Alaya.

It turned out that Song Haoran had secretly carved this name into his own skin.

"Hurry, take a picture of this wound… before we forget! She said she would erase our memories!"

"This…" Song Ying hesitated, but under Song Haoran’s urgent gaze, she reluctantly took out her phone.

However, just as she was about to take the photo, another hand suddenly grabbed Song Haoran’s wrist.

At the same time, Luo Qiu’s voice rang out, "You're injured? Let me see… Hmm, it's already healed."

As Luo Qiu withdrew his hand, the bleeding wound on Song Haoran’s wrist had completely vanished.

Both Song Haoran and Song Ying looked at Luo Qiu in shock. In that instant, Luo Qiu extended his hand between them and snapped his fingers.

The two of them instantly lost focus, standing motionless.

Luo Qiu glanced at Song Haoran and murmured, "One day in the future, you will come into contact with it."

---

At the airport, a bombing suspect named Han Bingjiang had been apprehended. However, during his interrogation, he managed to escape.

While fleeing, Han Bingjiang even stabbed a foreign youth. Numerous witnesses confirmed the incident.

In his desperate escape, Han Bingjiang accidentally fell down an escalator in the airport, suffering severe head trauma and excessive bleeding. He was declared dead on arrival at the hospital.

As for his motives for making the bomb, they remained a mystery due to his death.

---

Song Haoran, Song Ying, and Luo Qiu were walking back to the airport hotel. Song Haoran strolled leisurely with his hands behind his head and suddenly said, "So, in the end, we still don’t know whose kid that was?"

Song Ying replied, "Didn’t security say the parents already came to pick the child up? Seriously, everything was over, but you just had to insist on going out to find food. And look what happened! We ran right into Han Bingjiang’s accident scene and almost got questioned by the police! What if our identities got exposed?"

"Hey, that’s not my fault!" Song Haoran draped an arm over Luo Qiu’s shoulders. "I only went out to keep you company!"

"Song Haoran!!"

"Oh, almost forgot! I ordered room service in my hotel room. I’m heading back first!"

"Don't run! You jerk!!"

They chased and argued playfully.

Luo Qiu watched them bicker as they walked away. He stretched lazily before unlocking the door to his hotel room.

Inside, on the pristine white bedsheet, lay a sketchbook.

Luo Qiu poured himself a glass of water, picked up the sketchbook, and sat by the window, flipping through it.

On the most recent page, an orange-red crayon had colored in a bright sun.

Below it was a grassy field, flowers almost as tall as the house, and a mother holding her child’s hand.

Luo Qiu took a sip of water and flipped back a few pages.

One of them depicted a woman lying in a pool of blood, while another woman stood beside her holding a knife.

"What are parents to their children?" Luo Qiu remained silent for a moment before closing the sketchbook.

Then, he pulled open the curtains, gazing at the early morning airport.

"Perhaps… a kind of inheritance."

---

In a distant time and place.

A child suddenly appeared in a room.

He looked almost identical to the child already sleeping there.

It was a bizarre sight.

Perhaps they were just twins… or so one might think.

However, when the sleeping child suddenly woke up, he stared in astonishment at the other child standing by his bedside.

"Who are you?" the waking child asked curiously.

"Hey, is your mom good to you?" the child standing by the window suddenly asked.

Although confused, the sleepy child instinctively nodded and smiled brightly. "She’s the best to me!"

"Oh, oh! That’s great." The child by the bed nodded.

Then, in a flash, he grabbed a pencil from the nearby desk and stabbed it into the waking child's neck.

"Then she’s my mom now."

In no time, the child on the bed stopped moving, his wide eyes frozen in shock. A pencil was still lodged in his neck.

Blood had splattered onto the standing child’s face and clothes.

Just then, a gentle voice called from downstairs.

"Paul? Paul? Are you awake? If you’re up, come down and brush your teeth. Breakfast is ready, and the school bus will be here soon!"

The child by the bed wiped the blood off his face.

The stains gradually disappeared from his body.

Then, he broke into a radiant, sun-like smile and cheerfully replied, "I'm awake, Mom!"

He changed into a fresh set of clothes and opened the door.

"Mom! What’s for breakfast?"

As he shut the door behind him, the faint creak of the hinges echoed in the room.

Creak—click.

(End of Chapter)