"What caused their memory loss? I don't think it was brainwashing. If you can achieve large-scale brainwashing, no one in the world will resist you."
"so--"
Su Mingan placed his hands on his chin, fingers together:
"——Is it a pathological reason?"
In an instant, Su Mingan saw the light flashing in the eyes of the god.
That's stunning.
I admire Yu Su Mingan for giving this answer.
"In the black fog..." Su Mingan said, "there is some kind of pathological component that can cause people to lose their memory, right? So people who suffer from black fog disease will have blurred memory."
"The real cure for the Black Mist disease can eliminate this pathological component and allow people to gradually recall their suppressed memories. That's why you won't allow the real cure to appear in the world."
"So, the special medicine that the Ark Project is promoting now should be a castrated version - a castrated version of the special medicine that will not allow humans to recall their memories."
"The real cure for the Black Mist disease will awaken the human history that you have worked so hard to erase so far - that's why you want to find it so badly, right?"
Across the table, the spirits were quiet.
His eyes became dark, like a surging torrent. Su Mingan looked at him fearlessly.
Su Mingan knew that he was right.
After a long silence, when even the kneeling people's legs began to tremble, the spirit spoke.
"Come back with me."
The spirit said:
"I would like to invite you to my home."
Su Mingan was startled. He felt the aura of the gods suddenly rise. Just as he was about to speak, he felt a black screen in front of his eyes.
…
His fingers slid across the books on the bookshelf, sliding over the titles one by one: "Plant and Flower Illustrations", "How to Make a Mechanical Puppy", "What is the Essence of World Games", "Mr. Qin and the Transmission History of Life Hard Drives", "The Rebirth of the God of War Dragon King: I am the Power Holder", "I Really Don't Want to Save the Old World", "Infinity: Infinite Evolution from Birth"...
The god lowered his brows and gazed at these dusty books.
These are books from decades or even centuries ago, and as history was erased, these books were preserved in the abodes of the gods, and no one can see them anymore.
In that era, countless people came forward one after another, and countless people passed on tokens, trying to convey the past to the present, but unfortunately no one succeeded.
The remaining thoughts and fighting spirit were wiped out and replaced by ignorant and foolish beliefs. The people's independent spirit has disappeared. The gods ruled them with faith and wiped out their past history.
These books are like the cemetery of people from the old times, buried here along with their idealism and fighting spirit. Only the originators can stand here and look at the names on the spines of these books, as if they are nostalgic for the stories of these people's lives.
"Sir God." A woman with a golden ring around her neck was waiting at the door. Her expression was respectful, as if she was also dominated by some fanatical emotion.
"Mizushima Kawaseong." The spirit said her name softly, "How is my guest?"
He has brought the guest back and placed him in a room that he had prepared in advance. There is a piano and a few cats in it, and the guest should like it.
"He fainted and is still sleeping." Mizushima Kawaseong said in a low voice.
The spirit passed her and headed down the corridor.
This is the place where the gods live on earth and is also a place of pilgrimage for people. Every weekend, people kneel outside the building and sing songs of praise. Today, it is still quiet here, with only the sound of leather boots hitting the ground.
In the scarlet corridor, there is an oil painting hung at intervals. The golden frame looks like wax that is about to melt, and there is a frightening sense of unreality under the flickering lights.
"I've heard that he likes roses and lilies, and he's also interested in young people with gray hair, but unfortunately I don't have anyone else here." The spirit muttered to himself, "Perhaps I should add some fresh roses to the room."
Mizushima Kawaseong watched the figure of the spirit going farther and farther away, and suddenly said loudly: "Lord Spirit, what do you want to do by leaving him here? There are still two hours before the first ruins begin. He will be too late..."
The spirit said, "I heard you are enemies. Are you worried about him?"
Mizushima Kawaseong said: "I... am not."
She clenched her fists.
The god ignored her. He walked to the end of the corridor and opened the door.
Under the night, the curtains were not drawn, and the night outside the window looked like a hazy veil. There were flowers blooming in the room, and there was a piano. The black-haired young man leaned against the bed, tilting his head slightly, with his eyes closed, and his expression looked very peaceful, as if he had finally gotten a long sleep.
If he continued to sleep, it might be more like a relief for him.
The god stood quietly at the door, the faint starlight sprinkled on his hair, caressing his jade-like face inch by inch. He did not hurt Su Mingan, nor did he wake him up.
"...Changge, Su Mingan has fallen asleep, you should be awake." Until the god spoke slowly, like a whisper.
The black-haired young man still had his eyes closed and did not respond.
Suddenly, his eyelashes trembled, and then he slowly opened his eyes.
The spirit confirmed his gaze and quickly recognized that it was Su Mingan and not Changge. He thought he would sleep longer, but he woke up at the slightest movement.
Su Mingan opened his eyes and saw this strange room, realizing that he had been captured by a spirit. He glanced at the clock on the wall and raised his wrist slightly, as if he just wanted to touch his hair.
The spirit came to his side and whispered in his ear:
"You are my most distinguished guest. It is very quiet and safe here. You don't have to worry about any danger."
"No one can hurt you."
Su Mingan's eyes moved slightly, but he hadn't realized what the spirit meant.
Until the spirit slowly placed its hand on his shoulder, its voice as light as a feather.
"Self-destruction is prohibited here..."
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