Trafford's Trading Club

Chapter 1244: The Day the World Stopped Turning

Inside a room where both the ceiling and walls were painted black, 24 had once again entered a dazed state.

Zhong Luochen hadn’t spoken a word—he’d even closed his eyes.

It was a breathing and meditation technique he’d learned years ago from a master of Chinese philosophy. Back then, it wasn’t for gaining supernatural power, but simply for self-cultivation.

He had always believed that family background merely gave him a higher starting point; if he couldn’t digest and make use of the advantages that came with it, someone like him—a child of a wealthy family—could easily fall from that height, and when he did, it would be to total ruin.

He couldn’t reach the level of sitting still for an entire day like a Zen master, but calming his chaotic thoughts was something he could manage. And since his heart had long been stripped of most emotions, he now did it better than ever.

Finally, Zhong Luochen opened his eyes.

24 had failed again and again in his attempts, and now turned around—or perhaps, he had simply sensed Zhong Luochen’s current state.

“Do people really have souls?” Zhong Luochen asked, his tone full of curiosity, eyes bright. “What is a soul? A part of the body? Or just the activity of neurons in the brain?”

24 was surprised by the question and pondered for a moment before replying, “There are many theories about the soul, and every person’s understanding differs. Even I haven’t fully grasped the mystery of the soul. To know all its secrets—that would be at the level of the Creator.”

“Even Mr. 24 doesn’t know?” Zhong Luochen frowned slightly.24 said calmly, “I mean, everyone perceives it differently. Some think the soul is thought, some think it’s an imprint, and some believe it’s a fragment of the world’s will itself. I tend to agree with that last one.”

“Then please, tell me more about that view,” Zhong Luochen said.

24 thought for a while. “I once visited a world that had already fallen into ruin. They walked a path called ‘science.’ In that world, people artificially created a new world’s will.”

Zhong Luochen listened quietly, not interrupting, noting down each word carefully.

“They built a machine that, in an instant, gathered the thoughts of everyone into a single massive consciousness. The moment it was born, it possessed nearly divine power, rivaling the world’s will itself… and the two wills began to battle in their most primal form, destroying the entire civilization. In the end, the world’s will won and devoured the collective consciousness.”

24 fell silent for a long while. “After consuming the collective consciousness, the world’s will became unimaginably powerful—and its exclusivity grew even stronger. For explorers like us, that world became an absolute forbidden zone.”

Explorers… forbidden zone.

Zhong Luochen noted those words down.

“Though the world’s will had become immensely powerful,” 24 continued, “I had the feeling that this was its original, rightful state.”

He mused, “I had observed that ruined world from between the cracks for a long time—until a new civilization began to emerge. Humanity appeared, and as they multiplied, the world’s will weakened, eventually returning to the level it had before the battle with the collective consciousness.”

Zhong Luochen caught the key idea. “Mr. 24, are you saying that the world’s will divided itself, nurtured civilization, and then consumed it again?”

24 yawned. “I didn’t say that. It’s just an unverified hypothesis. After all, I only encountered such a case once—hardly enough to draw conclusions.”

After a moment of thought, Zhong Luochen said, “According to your view, then… the soul is equivalent to human consciousness.”

“Or perhaps only part of it.” 24 smiled faintly. “But if that’s true, it would mean that both supernatural power and scientific power originate from the world’s will itself. Do you find that contradictory?”

“Something that exists before development, and even after development only returns to its destined state…” Zhong Luochen’s brow furrowed deeper, as if speaking to himself. “It’s like a predetermined script, rehearsed again and again… Is it to verify something, or to observe something?”

24 studied him for a moment, then lowered his eyelids, looking drowsy—but inwardly, he was far from calm.

He knew Zhong Luochen’s condition well: just an ordinary human, and one with a damaged soul at that. Yet such a man could, from a few of his offhand remarks, infer ideas that 24 himself had pondered for years.

Of course, part of it came from the hints Zhong Luochen had already uncovered. But to so quickly grasp the contradictions and reach the heart of the matter—that was remarkable for a mortal.

Suddenly, Zhong Luochen asked, “Mr. 24, this soul modification technique of yours—is it based on this theory?”

24’s half-lidded eyes opened slightly. “Why do you say that?”

Zhong Luochen seemed to reason aloud, “If humans have from the start carried fragments of the world’s will, then in theory everyone has the potential to use that power. You said your sorcery is a gift of the soul—something innate. Yet you also said you could modify my soul so I could gain it. If a talent can be gained through modification, then it must exist in everyone—some express it, others don’t. The types of gifts differ, but they can be adjusted… turned from latent to active, or reshaped to resemble another’s. But all of this assumes one thing—that the core of every soul is at least similar, or even connected. Similar, connected… which in turn suggests a common origin.”

(He’s really about to dig out all my secrets, this new boss… Are all the people in this sub-world this clever?)

“So you think the risk of this soul modification is actually small—and that I was just bluffing?” 24 smirked.

Zhong Luochen shook his head. “It’s just my guess, and it’s based only on what you’ve said. I’m not arrogant enough to think I’m completely right. However… I’d like to test it.”

“Oh?”

Zhong Luochen looked at 24, already having a plan. “Since you can modify souls, then let’s test it. As for the subjects—you don’t need to worry, I can find them for you.”

24 grinned with interest. “So you’ll prepare enough test subjects to confirm the success rate before you risk it yourself… Boss, I must say—you really are a born cold-blooded man.”

Zhong Luochen said calmly, “I’ll handle the selection. Then, I won’t disturb your rest.”

He left decisively. Once the door closed and darkness returned to the room, 24’s quiet voice echoed faintly:

“What a fine soul this is… Who was so heartless as to cut it apart?”

…

After leaving Ren Ziling’s magazine office, Leng Feng exchanged a few words with Wang Yuegang, then they went their separate ways.

This trip back home was mainly for Leng Feng to visit old friends and former superiors, so he spent the following hours doing just that.

By a little past three in the afternoon, Leng Feng called Luo Qiu—the number he’d gotten over dinner the previous night.

“Interested in going hiking with me?”

After leaving his last old superior’s house, Leng Feng made the call.

…

Luo Qiu didn’t have a strong impression of Uncle Leng Feng, but he knew that some friendships didn’t depend on how often people met.

His father had plenty of friends, but to Luo Qiu in the past, there were only a few he truly felt close to.

Of course, goodwill worked both ways—what he gave others, others could give him too.

That was the nature of connection.

Luoxia Mountain—a local scenic spot so overvisited that the locals were sick of it. Leng Feng, however, seemed to enjoy himself, chatting animatedly as they climbed.

“Not many young people like mountain climbing these days,” Leng Feng said with a smile. “Life’s too rich now. For them, hiking can’t compare to video games.”

Luo Qiu handed him a bottle of water from his backpack.

Leng Feng took a drink, and the two stopped halfway up the mountain, sitting where the breeze was strongest.

He pointed toward a large gray area in the distance, speaking with interest, “I used to train there. Later the base was relocated, and I was transferred elsewhere… yes, right about there. I heard this place will be cleared out next year—they’re building a new airport.”

He gestured toward the city below, his tone filled with nostalgia and the sense of watching time pass and the world change.

As he spoke, he gradually fell silent, gazing quietly at the city beneath the mountain.

After a long moment, Leng Feng sighed and turned to Luo Qiu, chuckling softly. “You’re a strange kid. When I see you, I always feel like talking. When you’re quiet, it’s like you’re not really here, even though you clearly are. You’re not like your father at all.”

Luo Qiu couldn’t find anything to say… perhaps it was just his nature.

Leng Feng shook his head. “I still prefer to see some fire in young people. You’re at an age where you shouldn’t be like this. Don’t blame me for being nosy. I’ve seen too many young people—hundreds of new recruits come to the camp every year. Some are arrogant, some have bad tempers, some are timid, some barely speak. I won’t claim to have seen all of humanity, but life’s variety is a familiar thing to me… Tell me, do you have something on your mind? Is it about Ziling?”

Luo Qiu paused for a moment. Ever since meeting Leng Feng this time, he’d been in a rather confused state.

He didn’t intend to treat Leng Feng as a guest, but neither could he treat him as he did Ma Houde or Ye Yan. Leng Feng occupied a space Luo Qiu had never quite defined—someone somewhat close, yet always missing something essential. But Leng Feng’s sudden question broke his train of thought.

“Why do you say that?” Luo Qiu asked curiously.

Leng Feng was usually a straightforward man, but this time he hesitated… which wasn’t like him. He sighed and spoke directly. “How should I put it? A few years ago, you were still a kid and needed looking after, so I couldn’t say much then. But now you’re an adult—you have your own thoughts. So, what do you think of Ziling? You don’t need her guardianship anymore, and she’s still so young. The kind of relationship you two have… I think you’ve realized it, haven’t you?”

In that instant, Luo Qiu finally understood why he had never been able to clearly define Leng Feng’s place.

He was silent for a long time.

Then Luo Qiu looked at him and smiled. When he spoke, it was in the calm, composed tone of the Boss. “Mr. Leng, you once liked her, didn’t you?”

Leng Feng’s gaze flickered. He was a man who’d seen life and death, who could command a thousand new soldiers with sheer presence alone—but at this moment, he felt an odd reluctance to look directly at the young man before him. Perhaps because of Luo Qiu’s tone, perhaps a hint of irritation.

Still, he couldn’t really be angry. Leng Feng gave a wry smile and shook his head. “If you hadn’t added the word once, kid, I might’ve had to give you a good beating.”

Luo Qiu fell even quieter.

Leng Feng patted his shoulder and looked out at the city below. “I have a wife and child. We’re very happy. It’s not as complicated as you think. I just don’t want to see her go on like this forever, that’s all. Do you remember what you told me yesterday at the cemetery?”

Luo Qiu nodded.

“She still hasn’t let go,” Leng Feng sighed. “She’s a good woman—either she doesn’t fall in love at all, or she loves for life.”

Luo Qiu said nothing.

Leng Feng continued softly, “Do you really want to watch her cry secretly a few times every year?”

“This past year,” Luo Qiu said, still looking at the city rather than at Leng Feng, “I haven’t been able to find what I truly want to do. It feels like I’ve been searching—searching for a way to keep my emotions from being taken away. But I’ve never found the real reason that drives me to do it. And maybe, in the process of searching, I’ve already been doing it subconsciously.”

Leng Feng frowned. He hadn’t come today to argue with Luo Qiu—just to confirm a few things. He knew Ma Houde and the others were close to the Luo family, and some matters couldn’t easily be said in front of them.

It needed someone not too close, but who still cared enough—to pierce the matter directly. And that someone was probably him.

He couldn’t quite grasp what Luo Qiu meant, so he asked instinctively, “What… is it that you want to do?”

“To find a world,” Luo Qiu said quietly, “where both possibilities exist at once, without contradiction.”

And at that moment—time stopped.

Truly stopped.

The Earth itself halted its rotation.

Everything—every thought, every movement of the oceans and the wind, every car on the road, every train, every airplane mid-flight, every person eating or talking, even the maid polishing a glass in the club—everything froze in place.

All of it was clear within Luo Qiu’s perception.

Maybe it lasted a second.

Maybe a minute.

Maybe a very long time.

Then, a force unlike the one from the altar—something like a seed—suddenly sprouted within him.

…

A mountain breeze blew. Leng Feng shivered violently, feeling as if he had drifted off for quite a while.

He instinctively glanced at Luo Qiu beside him, who was holding his phone and taking pictures of the city below.

There were things he’d wanted to say—about Ren Ziling’s future—but the words died before reaching his lips. Maybe in a few more years, he thought, he’d say them.

“Let’s head back,” Leng Feng said, standing up. “I booked a flight for tonight. I’ll be leaving soon.”

It was two or three days earlier than planned—but because of Viper’s appearance, Leng Feng had to cut his vacation short and return to the capital immediately to deal with the potential threat from the Zhao family.

(End of Chapter)