TIC Chapter 27

 Chapter 27

Hein showed not the slightest trace of impatience; he merely spoke in a calm, even tone: "You clumsy rookie."

Xiao Yan smiled indifferently.

*If I really were omnipotent, I wouldn't still be a B-level cadet.*

"I will say this only once, so listen carefully. Right now, you are not a physical entity, but a subconscious construct. You must extract yourself from the subconscious realm and ascend to the surface of your conscious mind."

Xiao Yan twitched the corners of his lips, barely suppressing the urge to let out a frustrated roar.

He finally understood: Hein and Shen Bing were cut from the same cloth—concisely explaining abstract concepts in a way that left one utterly bewildered and at a complete loss.

Hein’s gaze was piercingly cold; under that stare, Xiao Yan felt the full weight of his own ignorance.

"Very well, I will guide you out. However, this requires your absolute trust. The moment you display any aggressive intent toward me, I will immediately withdraw from your mind."

And should that happen, Xiao Yan would be left to drift aimlessly within the depths of his own consciousness.

"I understand."

Hein’s body slowly began to rise, tracing a graceful arc through the air. His hair cascaded downward, brushing ever so lightly against Xiao Yan’s forehead. Viewed from this angle, Hein’s sharp, chiseled features suddenly took on a soft, ethereal beauty. His lips aligned with Xiao Yan’s; then, slowly drifting upward, his face glided past Xiao Yan’s nose and across his brow. Gradually, he leveled out until he was parallel with the horizon, finally coming to rest directly above Xiao Yan’s head.

It was a slow, deliberate process—one that stirred a strange, inexplicable flutter in Xiao Yan’s heart.

"Let's go."

It was a command—issued in a tone that brooked no refusal.

Faced with such an arrogant attitude, no matter how annoyed Xiao Yan might have felt, he had no choice but to follow this man.

Xiao Yan’s body, too, began to float upward, while Hein maintained a constant, parallel distance from him—as if they were two mirror images facing one another.

As they drew ever closer to that vast, oceanic expanse, Xiao Yan instinctively reached out to grasp Hein’s shoulder. The instant his fingers made contact, however, Hein reached out and interlaced his own fingers with Xiao Yan’s—fitting them perfectly into the spaces between his knuckles. It was the first time anyone had ever held his hand in such a manner—and for that person to be Hein... Xiao Yan involuntarily drew in a sharp breath. “We’re going in?”

Hein cast a glance at Xiao Yan. “What are you afraid of? That is your own consciousness.”

Hein extended his other hand, his fingertips dipping into the seawater; with a gentle stroke, ripples danced outward, tracing a graceful arc.

The man’s expression remained serene from start to finish, as if nothing could ever shake him—as if nothing could ever truly reach the depths of his heart.

Yet, it was precisely this air of detachment that made him appear so resolute.

Xiao Yan’s body executed a half-turn, bringing him to a position directly above Hein. The moment Hein’s fingertips lightly tapped against Xiao Yan’s chest, he was engulfed by the surrounding waters.

Hein had gazed up at him the entire time; now, drifting beyond Hein’s line of sight, Xiao Yan felt as though he could ascend no higher. Panic began to set in—and in that very instant, Hein materialized right before him.

Golden strands of hair drifted and swayed within the water, radiating a luminous glow that defied description. His once-cold eyes softened; as the currents caressed his features, they sculpted his profile into lines of unforgettable beauty.

Just as Xiao Yan was about to break the surface, Hein placed a hand on his shoulder and pointed upward.

It was a world woven from countless threads of data and information, surging and rushing like the gears of a high-speed machine.

“Go there, and you will wake up.”

“Thank you.”

Hein’s face became the most perfect silhouette, etched indelibly into Xiao Yan’s vision. The other man slowly turned his head, his expression—though devoid of warmth—seeming to harbor something deep within.

“Next time... protect yourself.”

“What?”

Hein’s hand suddenly clamped around the back of Xiao Yan’s head, instantly closing the distance between them.

Xiao Yan watched, frame by frame, as that slightly turned face drew ever closer—until it pressed against his own lips. Hein’s mouth parted slowly, then closed firmly over Xiao Yan’s, the intensity of his kiss laced with an overwhelming possessiveness. Xiao Yan knew he ought to resist, yet he found himself utterly paralyzed—as if bound by some invisible force. Hein’s tongue was fervent and unbridled; he licked at Xiao Yan with a frenzied intensity, pushing past his palate and forcing his mouth open to accommodate his own uncontrollable madness, then aggressively plundering everything within. It was a kiss bordering on desperation—angles shifting ceaselessly, as if he had nearly lost something most precious, only to snatch it back at the very last, critical second. Xiao Yan’s tongue was left with no room to refuse; the wild sucking grew increasingly out of control, desire surging within him like a wildfire that, in an instant, engulfed the heavens and the earth.

In that very moment, Hein released Xiao Yan. He was as cold and detached as ever; his fingers reached out, his index finger brushing lightly against the stray wisps of hair on Xiao Yan’s forehead. As the tips of those strands slipped away from Hein’s touch, Xiao Yan felt an overwhelming urge to follow them.

“Wh—why?” Xiao Yan asked him.

“What good would telling you do? You won’t remember the answer I give you anyway.”

“Yes, this is the subconscious! Everything you say, everything you do for me—I won’t remember any of it! So tell me the answer, Colonel!”

“I’m addicted to you, Xiao Yan.”

While Xiao Yan was still savoring the weight of those words, Hein had already tipped backward, sinking peacefully into the rippling blue depths.

“Hein!”

Xiao Yan reached out, attempting to grasp him, but Hein had vanished.

Addicted? Hein Burton—addicted to *him*? Wasn’t it only ordinary people who were susceptible to addiction to the X-Virus? Weren’t his own delusions—those unrealistic dreams—simply the result of *his own* addiction to the X-Virus?

By now, Hein had returned to reality. He opened his eyes and removed the terminal interface device.

“Thank goodness you’re alright!” Shen Bing closed his eyes and let out a relieved breath.

“I’m fine.” Hein rose and walked over to Xiao Yan’s bedside, his fingers slowly coming to rest upon the gently fluttering lashes of the sleeping man’s eyes.

Shen Bing paused, slightly taken aback. He and Hein had been classmates at the Central Academy of Sciences. The Hein Burton of the past, while always giving off an impression of cold reserve, had never exuded such an overwhelming sense of intensity—a palpable pressure that seemed to keep everyone at bay. He rarely made physical contact with anyone, and he certainly never allowed anyone to intrude upon his personal space. And at this moment...

Hein’s eyelids lowered as his fingers slowly threaded through Xiao Yan’s hair, his thumb gently caressing the other man’s cheek.

Shen Bing let out a subtle breath, speaking in a tone as calm as he could muster: "He will wake up."

Hein rose to his feet and, without a word, walked past Shen Bing and out of the room. The moment the sliding door opened, he saw Lily standing in the doorway—her face etched with worry, yet hesitating, unsure of how to enter.

"C-Colonel!" Lily looked up.

Hein walked past her; perhaps it was merely an illusion, but under the weight of that fleeting glance from Hein, Lily felt so stifled she could barely breathe—until Shen Bing’s voice rang out, saving her from suffocation.

"Come in. Xiao Yan hasn't woken up yet."

Meanwhile, Xiao Yan remained suspended in the liminal space between his subconscious and the troposphere of his thoughts. He sat motionless where he was, the knuckle of his index finger rubbing against his lips—still tingling from Hein’s kiss. He knew he had to return to reality; otherwise, he would never truly understand what Hein’s declaration—"I’m addicted to you"—actually meant.

As if steeling his resolve, Xiao Yan took a deep breath; detaching himself from the metaphorical ocean, his body instantly dissolved into a torrent of surging data and information, rushing toward the highest point.

"Hah—" The breath that had been stifled deep within his chest was suddenly liberated. His eyes snapped open, and Xiao Yan found himself staring at a pristine white ceiling; the soft, diffused light allowed his vision to slowly come into focus.

"Xiao Yan! Thank goodness—you’ve finally woken up!"

"Lily... what happened to me?"

Xiao Yan attempted to sit up, but a sudden wave of dizziness forced him to sink back down.

"You trapped yourself within your own subconscious. Now, you are awake." The voice was stern, its tone flat and devoid of inflection—exactly like that damn Colonel who barked orders at him whenever he was piloting a spacecraft.

"Shen Bing!" Xiao Yan cried out, his eyes widening in astonishment.

He was a man who, like Xiao Yan, possessed Asian ancestry. Of course, ever since humanity had migrated to the *Char* system, racial distinctions had long since ceased to exist. Yet, individuals of pure Asian lineage—like Xiao Yan—had become a rarity; Shen Bing was one of the few remaining. “Yes, I am Shen Bing.”

The mature man approached Xiao Yan’s bedside, resting one hand beside his ear. An intense pressure radiated from his gaze, pinning Xiao Yan’s head firmly in place. The man spoke slowly, enunciating every word: “However, I think you ought to address me as Colonel Shen Bing—you dim-witted rookie.”

“Dim-witted rookie?”

Even if Xiao Yan was merely a B-level cadet—at most, he might be criticized for lacking talent in research—the adjective “dim-witted” was absolutely, damnably out of line.

“Getting yourself trapped inside your own mind—isn’t that dim-witted enough? If Colonel Hein Burton hadn’t personally entered this place to pull you out...” Shen Bing tapped a finger against Xiao Yan’s forehead. “You likely never would have woken up.”

“What... it was Hein Burton?”

“Oh, so you really did forget. But that’s a normal physiological response; no one can remember what happens within their own subconscious.”

Shen Bing gave a light scoff. “You’re incredibly lucky. If Hein Burton hadn’t come to this base, no one could have saved you.”

Shen Bing rose briskly, and the oppressive pressure vanished instantly, allowing Xiao Yan to let out a relieved breath. He stared numbly at the ceiling; what was this strange emptiness aching in his heart?

There was something—something vitally important—that he had forgotten. Xiao Yan pressed the back of his hand against his eyes, frantically searching and chasing after the memory in his mind. It was like a phantom; just as his fingertips were about to brush against the truth, it would shatter into fragments.

“The Colonel wasn’t lying to you; it really was Hein Burton,” Lily said.

Xiao Yan pushed himself up into a sitting position, only to be immediately struck by a wave of dizziness. “God... I don’t remember a single thing that happened...”

Why would Hein Burton save him? Wasn’t that cold-blooded monster practically itching for him to die?

Shen Bing left the room and stepped out into the corridor. Glancing up, he spotted Hein leaning against the wall, his face turned away—he appeared to be waiting for an answer.

Yet, years of experience dealing with this man told Shen Bing otherwise: Hein Burton never waited.

“Is that dim-witted rookie still alive?” A cool, crisp voice rang out—utterly unchanged from how it had always been. Shen Bing smiled and replied, "Don't call him that; it’s practically becoming his nickname. I’m truly sorry for making you enter someone else's subconscious once again. Even for people who are upright and kind in reality, the depths of their subconscious often harbor many dark thoughts—those cruel, brutal parts... Stepping into another person's subconscious is akin to leaping into an abyss. It’s a huge relief to see you return safe and sound."

Hein turned away with an air of indifference and began walking down the corridor, responding coolly, "You needn't apologize to me. His mind isn't such a terrible place."

"..." Shen Bing parted his lips, and after a long moment of silence, he murmured, "To think that Hein—of all people—would describe it as 'not so terrible'... I suddenly have an overwhelming urge to crack that rookie's skull open just to take a look inside! Hey, Hein—"

Hein halted his steps—the greatest courtesy the habitually self-absorbed Colonel would ever extend to an old friend.

"What did you see inside his mind? The terminal logs indicated that just before your consciousness exited Xiao Yan's brain... you nearly lost control."

"Shen Bing, if the day ever comes when I must die, I want to die within his world."

Having spoken, Hein Burton walked away, his figure receding into the distance; in his retreating silhouette, there was not a trace of lingering attachment or hesitation.

Shen Bing's pupils slowly dilated. Just as everything teetered on the brink of chaos, a fragile calm was restored. Pressing his fingers against his forehead in helpless resignation, he whispered, "Well, looks like I’ve accidentally stumbled upon a rather monumental secret..."

As Shen Bing made his unhurried way back to the Control Center, the communicator on his wrist suddenly flashed to life—an incoming message from the Control Room.

"Colonel! The missing A102 craft has been sighted! It is currently heading straight for our base!"

Shen Bing's eyelids twitched. "Have you established contact with the pilot?"

"We’ve hailed them repeatedly, but there has been no response!"

"Seal all entry points! All departments, remain on high alert!"

"Understood!"

Shen Bing broke into a brisk stride, rushing toward the Control Room. Warning lights flashed overhead, and the PA system blared a ceaseless repetition: "Level 3 Alert! Level 3 Alert! All departments, maintain vigilance!"

Xiao Yan sat up and looked toward Lily, who was seated beside him. "What’s going on?"

"I don't know. But we’d better just stay put; we’re only trainees, after all—there’s nothing we can do anyway."

On the control room’s holographic display, a spacecraft was seen hurtling straight toward the entrance gates of Base 14.

"Shoot it down!"

Shen Bing issued the command in a cold, detached tone.

The communications officer stared at him in astonishment. "Colonel, that’s one of *our* ships!"

"If the pilot really is one of ours, why isn't he responding to Central Command's hails?"

"But..."

Watching the spacecraft close in rapidly, Shen Bing slammed his hand down on a console button and issued a direct order: "Turrets 6 and 8—fire! Do not let that vessel get anywhere near this base!"

A thunderous roar erupted.

The turrets' missiles were equipped with advanced tracking systems; once launched, they would relentlessly pursue their target until impact.

The spacecraft twisted and spun through the air, attempting to shake off the missiles hot on its tail.

"Communications Officer! What are you waiting for? If it refuses to identify itself even under these circumstances, do you *still* think it’s friendly?"

The officer was jolted into sudden realization: spacecraft A102 had been out of contact with Central Command for nearly seventy-two hours—it had almost certainly already fallen into the clutches of "The Swarm." They were using that very spacecraft as a Trojan horse to infiltrate the base!

"Attention, all turrets! You *must* shoot that vessel down!"

As Turrets 7 and 9 unleashed their own volley of missiles, the spacecraft ran out of room to maneuver. Struck mid-flight, it erupted in a blinding flash of fire and disintegrated.

In the split second that Shen Bing allowed himself to relax, a small missile suddenly shot out from the fiery wreckage and came hurtling straight toward them.

The walls shattered, the ceiling caved in, and Shen Bing was tackled to the ground by his adjutant.

The missile spun as it burrowed deeper into the base; Shen Bing scrambled back to his feet, staggering unsteadily.

Before he could even fully grasp what was happening, the ground beneath him seemed to heave upward—only to give way and collapse in a sudden, violent instant. “Colonel! It’s a ground-penetrating spiral missile!”

Shen Bing’s ears rang violently, and his head began to spin.

“Assess the damage to the base!”

“All surface sectors have collapsed! Fortunately, the base’s underground sections were reinforced last year; the missile failed to penetrate deep, damaging only the surface structures!”

“All surface personnel—proceed immediately to the nearest entry points and descend underground! Sound a Level One Alert!”

The entire room where Xiao Yan was staying was violently heaved into the air. Terrified, Lily instinctively threw her arms around him; the pair nearly slammed into the ceiling before plummeting back down just as suddenly—the sheer weight of Lily pressing down on him felt as if it were crushing his very internal organs.

Less than two seconds later, a system notification blared out.

“Attention, all surface personnel! Proceed immediately via the nearest access tunnels to the underground shelters!”

The broadcast repeated the message incessantly, leaving both Xiao Yan and Lily frozen in stunned silence.

“Wh-what’s going on...?”

Lily scrambled to her feet, just about to push open the door, when Xiao Yan immediately shouted to stop her: “Don’t!”

“What is it...?” Lily’s hand froze on the door, and she turned to look back at Xiao Yan.

At that moment, a chilling dread settled deep within his heart.