The icy sewage flooded them waist-deep, the biting chill like thousands of steel needles piercing their skin, causing Pei Du to shiver violently and Xu Shuangyao, carried on his shoulder, to groan in pain. The murky water, laden with slippery filth and faintly phosphorescent specks of decaying bacteria, slowly washed over their exhausted bodies. A few sparse, pale rays of light filtered through the kicked-open circular wellhead overhead, like the last breaths of a dying man, outlining the deep, rusted, and sticky, moss-covered contours of the vast, abandoned maintenance pipeline. The air was thick with the smell of rust, the sour stench of rancid motor oil, and a... disturbing, gradually growing sweet, fishy odor. Deathly silence, like a heavy shroud, temporarily covered the distant din of the battlefield above.
"Cough... cough cough..." Xu Shuangyao choked and coughed, spitting out a few mouthfuls of dirty water. Her consciousness struggled to regain clarity under the pressure of cold and suffocation. The crown of thorns pressed heavily on her wet black hair, and the dark red light flowing through it was dimmer than ever, like a candle in the wind. Every weak flicker pulled at her fragile nerves, bringing a deep exhaustion and dizziness. Her body seemed to have been pulled out of all the bones, and she leaned limply on Pei Du's shoulder. Every heartbeat hit her chest heavily, bringing a dull pain like tearing. The aftermath of the mental backlash was still surging in the depths of her consciousness. The plant network's cold rejection words - "You have no right to command life" - were like poisoned ice spikes, repeatedly piercing her pride and belief as a creator.
Pei Du panted heavily, the cold sewage greedily absorbing the remaining warmth from his body. The wound on his neck, scratched by the chainsaw blade, burned in the filthy water. The wound on his right hand, where he had struck the Fungus Corpse Warlord, was even more bruised and pale. He lowered his head, his gaze grazing over Xu Shuangyao's pale cheek and the lingering blood at the corner of her mouth. A suppressed, almost frozen coldness filled his eyes. He forced himself to ignore the sharp pain in his hand and the throbbing in his neck, glancing around cautiously. The pipe twisted and turned, fading into unfathomable darkness. Only the gurgling sound of the flowing sewage echoed in the emptiness, accentuating the oppressive silence.
"That...that memory..." Xu Shuangyao's weak voice broke the silence, trembling with the pain of survival, evoking a faint echo through the pipe walls. She strained to lift her head, gazing at Pei Du's taut jawline. His usually calm, even apathetic eyes were now filled with a plea for confirmation and a sense of lingering fear. "It's fake...right? The fungal dome...an implanted illusion..." Her fingers curled unconsciously, as if she could still feel the roughness and strength of Pei Du's fingertips as he roughly wiped away her tears.
Pei Du's body stiffened imperceptibly for a moment. Sewage dripped down his angular jaw, hitting the murky water with a subtle "tick-tick" sound. In the darkness, his eyes were dim and unclear, like the deepest sea before a storm. Silence lingered for several seconds, the air thickening with the weight of silence.
"It's fake." His voice was low and hoarse, each word grinding out from the depths of his throat, carrying a chilling coldness that cut through everything, and a weariness that penetrated deep into his bones. "My father...died long before I can remember. Drunk, fell into the river." He paused, his Adam's apple rolling, his tone flat and without a ripple, as if he were recounting a story that had nothing to do with him. "Drowned."
The truth was so simple, so cold, like a stone dropped into stagnant water, stirring only bitter ripples in Xu Shuangyao's heart. Junqiong had unearthed the most primal fears deep within his memory—abandonment, betrayal by loved ones—and then, using the vague concept of "father," he had meticulously woven a desperate illusion of being trafficked. Like the most precise mental scalpel, it instantly shattered his staunch defenses. She watched the lingering coldness in Pei Du's eyes, a hint of exhaustion he tried so hard to conceal. Her heart felt like it was being gripped by an invisible hand, a stifling pain. Guilt coiled around her like a vine.
She subconsciously reached out, her cold, slender fingers cautiously probing the edge of the hideous wound on his neck, which was still slowly oozing light red blood. Her fingertips felt the warmth and fragility of his skin, along with the slight swelling characteristic of the wound.
"Does it hurt?" Her voice was as light as a sigh, with a softness that she herself was not aware of.
Pei Du's body trembled violently, as if struck by a weak electric current. Almost as a reflex, he grabbed her wrist, which had touched the wound! The force wasn't strong, but with an undeniable firmness, he stopped her from touching him further. The action was swift and direct, with an almost instinctive defense and resistance.
"This injury won't kill you." He pulled the corners of his mouth, revealing an almost cruel sneer, and turned his sharp eyes to the dull crown of thorns on her head. The mockery in his eyes was like an icy blade, "What about you? How does it feel to be betrayed by your own 'child'?" The tone was cold and sarcastic, and it seemed more like he was confirming her current state and confirming whether this "creator" was still worth using.
Xu Shuangyao's eyes dimmed instantly, like an extinguished star. A bitter taste spread across her tongue, so intense it suffocated her. "...It hurts," she admitted softly, her voice so light it seemed ready to dissipate into the stagnant air. "It hurts more than...any physical injury." The creature she had poured so much effort into, giving it the rudiments of "life," had, at the most crucial moment, coldly and completely denied the meaning of her existence. The pain of having her faith uprooted pierced her bones, sharper than the blade in Pei Du's hand. The scientist's pride was shattered in that moment.
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