Translator: AnubisTL
After briefly explaining the situation to the volunteer activity organizer, Jieming left the sun-drenched beach, his face a mask of impassivity.
The results of his probe were now definitive.
There was an extremely high probability that this "Viola" was the real person.
Jieming was confident in his judgment.
He considered himself no psychopath, and he knew he couldn't conceive of Viola's unique, pleasure-driven mindset—one that feasted on the suffering of others—out of thin air. Among the more than two million fallen wizards, an eccentric like Senior Viola, who had woven such perverse tastes into her very soul and acted upon them, was a rarity, nearly impossible to replicate.
Therefore, based solely on the "uniqueness" and "completeness" of her behavioral logic, the likelihood of Viola being herself was extremely high.
The most conclusive evidence, however, came from that final punch.
Jieming had confirmed long ago that although their transcendent powers were suppressed, they were still using their own bodies. After living in this world for so long, their bodies had learned new habits and reflexes, such as operating the light screens.
But similarly, the combat instincts forged through countless battles had not been completely erased.
This was evident from the fact that he could still execute sophisticated martial arts techniques.
The punch he threw—its speed, angle, and explosive power—all far exceeded the reaction limits of an ordinary person.
And Viola's near-instinctive dodge was something no ordinary company employee or community volunteer could ever possess.
That was combat instinct etched into one's very bones, an indelible mark left by countless life-and-death struggles.
Confirmed. At least Senior Viola is a "True Lord." In that case, the other familiar "faces" are likely the same.
The question that followed was: What do I do now?
Jieming walked on his way back, his brow furrowed.
His ultimate goal was, of course, to uncover the truth of this plane and find a way to escape. But that goal was too vast; he needed to take it one step at a time.
He needed a more concrete, actionable, short-term objective.
Find the "glitches" in this world... and the "purpose" behind the mastermind who has trapped us here, Jieming decided.
A system so vast, precise, and capable of imprisoning millions of powerful beings could never be flawless, nor could it exist without a reason.
In practical terms, this meant he would have to continue his frantic learning and observation for a long time to come.
Time flew, and another year passed in the blink of an eye.
Jieming sat in a tastefully decorated bistro renowned for its "molecular gastronomy."
He was looking down, savoring an exquisitely plated appetizer with a rich, layered flavor. His movements were elegant, his gaze subtly observing his surroundings without betraying any intention.
His focus was fixed on the head chef in the open kitchen, who was cooking with intense concentration.
The man was a burly middle-aged figure with a meticulously groomed beard. His eyes were sharp, demanding perfection in every step of the process, occasionally casting a menacing glare at an assistant for the slightest mistake.
He was somewhat famous in the local culinary circle, known as the "Tyrant of Taste" for his uncompromising pursuit of the finest ingredients and seasonings.
Jieming had seen this face clearly in pre-war intelligence footage—one of the three supreme commanders of the First Expeditionary Force, a seventh-tier battle wizard known for his fierce brutality and mastery of large-scale legion warfare: Baal, the "Blood Butcher"!
And yet, this once-mighty being, who could decide the fate of a plane with a wave of his hand, was now here, obsessing over heat control and sauce reductions, lost in the art of culinary creation.
Jieming was no longer surprised.
Take, for instance, the gentle and patient primary school teacher he had "encountered" yesterday. After observing her for a while and probing with subtle questions, he was fairly certain she had once been a wizard—a great master of potionology with profound knowledge.
When she led her students through the simplest of chemistry experiments, her fluid handling of the equipment and her almost instinctive precision with dosages and reaction timing were far beyond the skills of an ordinary primary school teacher.
Muscle memory and professional habits were impossible to hide.
However, as his observations deepened over the past year, a more unsettling question began to surface in Jieming's mind, replacing the initial relief of finding a "fellow traveler."
The number of "The Fallen" in this world seemed to far exceed his initial estimates!
At first, he had only noticed "familiar faces"—those who had appeared in the expeditionary force's intelligence reports or video recordings. But as time passed and his scope of observation expanded, he began to rely on his experience to identify other, slightly more recognizable individuals from the vast sea of people.
They might hold various ordinary jobs, but in unsuspecting moments, they would always reveal traces of being a "strong" or "expert" individual.
According to his rough estimates and judgments, the density of "true lords" he could find in this city alone had already far exceeded the scope that the number two million could cover!
Even if all the wizards fallen here and the contractual creatures that might have been caught up in it were counted, this magnitude still seemed somewhat exaggerated.
Jieming gently poked the food on the plate, which looked like a work of art with his fork, but his gaze grew more serious.
"So... are there other unknown, unluckier civilizations that invaded here even earlier, and also fell into this plane?"
"Or... among these 'true lords' I see, are there actually a large number of... 'indigenous' people of this plane itself mixed in?"
If it were the latter, what would that mean?
It would mean that this plane was not a pure "trap," but might possess a huge population and a complex social structure of its own?
And they, these wizards, were merely "implanted" into this society, replacing existing roles or filling newly created ones?
Or, in the worst-case scenario, the number of true inhabitants of this world was overwhelmingly larger than their own.
The mere possibility of this hypothesis sent a chill down Jieming's spine.
If even his seemingly ordinary neighbor, a passing pedestrian, or a shop clerk could be an "indigenous" resident, then the reality and complexity of this world far exceeded his initial imagination.
He wasn't just facing an unknown mastermind; he might be trapped in a colossal social labyrinth.
At this thought, he set down his utensils, paid the bill, and left.
Stepping out of the restaurant, he found the streets bathed in sunlight, teeming with people in a scene of bustling tranquility.
Jieming stood on the street corner, gazing at this vibrant, vast world.
For the first time, he felt with absolute clarity that what they faced was not just a cage designed to imprison them.
It was more likely a... colossal, living entity, functioning normally, with its own will and rules.
And their two million wizards were nothing more than tiny specks of dust that had accidentally strayed into its body, now being slowly "digested" or "assimilated."
(End of the Chapter)
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