In an instant, Phainon's figure evaporated from beside the dining table.
He left no trace.
Manic emotions, like a breached dam, furiously scoured through his memories of thirty million reincarnations.
He was like a phantom warping through shadows; each flicker brought terrified gasps from onlookers.
[Emotional Threshold: 99%...100%]
In the blink of an eye, Phainon was already pinned in front of the newsstand.
"Oh my!"
The newsstand owner was yawning when he suddenly saw a black-robed, masked man right in front of him, so startled he nearly bit off his tongue.
That attire was too imposing.
The owner forced a smile that was uglier than a cry.
"This... this brave man, what can I get for you?"
Phainon used all his strength to squeeze out a few words from his throat, suppressing the madness that was almost out of control.
"Just now... where did that green-haired man... go?"
"Huh? Green hair?" The owner scratched his head, looking bewildered. "Brave man, you see people coming and going here all day, like a revolving lantern. There are green, yellow, red—if you just say 'green hair,' how am I supposed to find him for you?"
That's right.
How could it be?
Could it really be the authority of Make-believe reality, reflecting my deepest obsession into reality?
But why... would he be the first?
Is all of this just an illusion I unconsciously created?
Phainon's gaze swept over the books in the newsstand, not missing a single corner, trying to find any trace of that person's existence.
An old book titled "Alchemy and Technology" caught his eye.
He reached out and opened the pages.
Between the pages, a note lay quietly, bearing a familiar handwriting.
Just then,
everything before Phainon's eyes lost their color. He seemed to no longer be on the streets of Belobog, but had returned to that endless golden rice field.
A green-haired man, dressed in magnificent robes and wearing an eye patch, slowly walked up to him.
"Phainon of Aedes Elysiae, what is your ideal?"
As soon as he finished speaking, the surging heat and madness within Phainon suddenly subsided.
System text appeared, an emotion never before seen—
[Current Emotion: Rationality]
He picked up the note and turned his gaze to the bewildered owner.
"What do I have in my hand?"
The owner's mouth twitched twice, thinking this person might have something wrong with his head.
"Uh... brave man, in your hand... isn't it just an ordinary note?"
Indeed... has the authority of Joy evolved to the point where it can solidify my deepest memories into reality?
Phainon silently put away the note.
A gust of wind blew, and his figure disappeared from the spot again.
Only the newsstand owner was left disheveled in the wind, finally blurting out a sentence after a long pause.
"Where did he go? This... what is all this...?"
—
Whoosh.
A gentle breeze brushed past.
Phainon returned to the dining table, as if he had never left.
The three small members of the Express were clearly used to his ghost-like comings and goings.
"Are you alright, Phainon?"
Stelle blinked her golden eyes and asked with concern.
"The way you looked just now, I thought you'd seen an enemy who owed you millions."
"I met my teacher," Phainon's voice was still flat, but the connections between his words were much smoother than usual.
"That's much scarier than an enemy," Stelle shook her head, deeply agreeing. "And you still dared to chase after him."
"Wait a minute..." Stelle realized belatedly, "This is Belobog, isolated for seven hundred years. Where did you find your teacher?"
"Yes."
Phainon echoed softly, his gaze seeming to penetrate the bustling crowd and look into the distance,
"This is Belobog, a world isolated for seven hundred years. How could he be here?"
Just then, a waiter approached with a huge tray, a table full of dazzling desserts, and the sweet, cloying aroma instantly dispelled the last trace of tension in the air.
Stelle, March 7th, and Dan Heng exchanged a subtle glance.
Stelle's chair moved forward half an inch.
March 7th seemingly casually propped her cheek, but her elbow subtly blocked an excellent escape route.
Dan Heng's gaze, like the most precise probe, was fixed on every detail of that golden mask.
An invisible net had quietly fallen.
They only waited for the moment the mask was lifted to glimpse the truth beneath it.
Phainon's hand slowly rose, about to touch the edge of the mask.
His gaze swept over the three of them, and the corner of his mouth beneath the mask curved slightly.
The next moment, he suddenly raised his hand and pointed forward.
"Look over there."
Stelle and March 7th's gazes, like iron filings drawn by a magnet, were involuntarily pulled firmly by that finger.
Stelle's pupils suddenly constricted!
She saw it! A golden trash can, surrounded by countless citizens, solemnly accepting the worship of everyone, like the newly appointed The Supreme Guardian!
March 7th covered her mouth, not letting herself scream.
A lifelike Pom-Pom was tiptoeing on a nearby railing, showing off their dancing skills, performing an extremely smooth, extremely mesmerizing sway dance!
Only Dan Heng remained calm, unmoved.
His gaze was still fixed on Phainon like a sharp sword.
Just then,
a cold voice echoed in his ear.
"There are five names, and three costs..."
Boom!
Dan Heng was suddenly startled!
He felt someone behind him, as crazy as Phainon, chasing after him!
He instinctively turned his head, but found nothing!
It was just a momentary lapse of concentration.
When Stelle and March 7th rubbed their eyes hard, realizing that the shocking sight was just an illusion, and then suddenly turned back—
All the desserts on the table had vanished without a trace.
Phainon had already put on his mask and was adjusting their position.
March 7th's mouth formed an "O" shape,
"One... one second? You finished it? Our wallet!!!"
"Thank you for the meal."
Phainon put down his napkin and nodded slightly to her, his tone even carrying a polite, genuine pleasure.
"It was delicious, I'm very happy."
March 7th shook her empty wallet, looking at Phainon with an incredulous expression,
"Wait, wait! You... when did your speech become so fluent?!"