Artifact Report

Chapter 309 Fu Tai Lan: Could it be that I did this?
The third artifact has only been in the world for a few days and has just undergone a capability test. It has not been sold yet, so it remains in the Morgan family's inventory.

But as soon as the news got out, several people lined up to see the goods: one buyer from a war-torn region was even willing to pay a "first-come, first-served" fee—$50,000—just to be the first person to see the goods and place an order, with the selling price to be calculated separately; even if he didn't like it, he wouldn't have to get a refund of the $50,000.

Fu Tailan originally wanted to conduct another test before the buyer arrived in the country; he always felt that the artifact had great potential and that its destructive power could be explored further.

Who would have thought that the second test would take place at the Wei family manor, where human lives were used as a test subject?

Fu Tailan put her hand into her pocket.

"The government office—"

Green was startled and realized what was happening.

The moment he uttered the word, it was so slow it was almost like a goldfish slowly opening and closing its mouth in a water tank.

Fu Tailan felt that she had such a long time—long enough to make one drowsy—to activate the illusion in her hand.

"—Too blue!" Green shouted, still oblivious to anything amiss: "It's him, shoot him right now!"

Time is neither stretched out nor diluted; time has not become the density of water ripples, gently spreading out wave after wave.

Time continues to move forward normally, second by second, but after the illusion is activated, time no longer serves as a reference.

When enough changes and events occur frequently enough, what difference does a second make compared to a hundred years?

Before Green could finish speaking, unfortunately, someone had already understood what he meant.

The middle-aged man with black hair who was closest to Fu Tai Lan clearly not only heard the name "Fu Tai Lan" but also realized that "Fu Tai Lan" was the intruder, the young man in front of him wearing a hat and with his head down.

It would take several long sentences to explain, but when it comes to a thought in the mind, it's just a fleeting moment.

A single thought is enough.

A young man wearing a hat, with his head down and his face indistinct, squeezed open the black-haired man's skull, as if he were a giant baby born from the wrong place—in the blink of an eye, the upper body of another person crawled out of his head.

The skull had long since fractured to its limit, fragments embedded in the skin of the face and scalp. The face resembled a half-undone leather jacket, slumped listlessly on the chin, its original appearance unrecognizable.

The young man wearing a hat, who had split open from his skull, emerged halfway and solidified on the black-haired man's head. The black-haired man wobbled, stumbled, and finally couldn't support the weight of the extra half-person on his head, crashing heavily to the floor.

Fu Tailan pulled half a crumpled, charred cigarette from his pocket, lowered his eyelids, and didn't look at it.

It's not something that looks good.

What if he discovers that the half-human protruding from his skull actually looks somewhat similar to himself? Wouldn't that make him feel disgusted until tomorrow?

The middle-aged man with black hair was just one of many unlucky souls.

Beside Fu Tailan, in the lobby of the security center, and among the people near and far, sitting or standing, countless "thoughts" flashing through their minds were taking shape like wild grass in a vast wilderness, growing out of each head and reaching high into the sky.

When some people hear "fire a shot," their first thought is "gun."

A metal gun barrel instantly pierced through the man's forehead, scattering fragments of skin, broken bone, and blood into the air—after he fell, it looked as if a well had appeared between his eyes, with blood gushing from it.

Some people heard the name "Fu Tai Lan," but only knew that it was an intruder, the "terrorist" mentioned by Secretary Green, without seeing what Fu Tai Lan looked like.

Then a middle-aged Arab man with a prejudiced expression, wearing a white turban and sporting a full beard, poked his head out from the back of the man's head, as if he were examining the original owner's back and buttocks.

With the neck attached, it looks like two blood-red tomatoes hanging on a stem.

Fu Tailan reached for empty air, then turned to another person not far away and asked, "Do you have a lighter?"

The person couldn't see him at all; it was as if he were invisible.

She just stared blankly at the man who squeezed out of the top of her head, then collapsed to the ground, exhausted—it was obvious what thoughts flashed through her mind after seeing this scene.

As soon as Fu Tailan finished speaking, a man whose head had also become Fu Tailan popped out of her head; her legs could not support the two extra upper bodies that had suddenly appeared, and she fell backward to the ground, stirring up a thin cloud of dust.

Fu Tailan couldn't help but turn her head away, her face scrunched up.

He disliked bloodshed; but what made him most reluctant to use this illusion was the "domino effect" of death—once seen and realized, the deaths of the previous ten people would faithfully emerge from the next person's head like molars.

See, here they come.

Not far behind, another woman with black hair and a blue head popped out from above another person's head.

Fortunately, there was no one behind him—on the contrary, a staff member in front of Fu Tai Lan suddenly had flames leap up from his neck; his whole head crackled and popped like wood in a winter fireplace.

...It's because I asked about lighters, right?

Fu Tailan lowered her eyes and thought to herself, she did not regret it.

It's better than dying after giving birth to a bunch of molars in your head.

"Everyone, close your eyes, sit down and don't move!"

He tried not to look anywhere and shouted, "Those with children, think about children; those without children, think about cats and dogs. Happy thoughts, happy thoughts—don't say I didn't warn you—and remember to keep your eyes closed!"

Anyway, as long as they keep their eyes closed and don't cause trouble for her, Fu Tailan doesn't necessarily have to kill them all.

Of course, in this situation, it's a bit difficult to ask someone to think of happy thoughts.

The buyer from the war-torn region, as he recalls, purchased the decoy a few days later—despite its mere 35-day validity period, the high price paid by the buyer was enough to arm a small army.

But considering its effectiveness, it's really good value for money, isn't it?
No living, conscious person can remain without thinking or having any fleeting thoughts.

The more violently a thought relates to violence, the more likely it is to materialize and emerge from the mind of its owner. Soldiers on the battlefield probably don't have the leisure to think about trivial things like "the weather is nice today" or "the birdsong is so bright"—even if they did, after seeing their comrade's skull burst open and a corpse emerge, they wouldn't be thinking about what they'd have for dinner.

Fu Tailan has been a hunter for over five years and has never seen a more suitable decoy for armed conflict.

He slung his backpack back over his shoulder, covered his eyebrows with one hand, and glanced down at the alpha wolf.

Only six or seven seconds had passed since Green called out his name; the alpha wolf hadn't even had time to close its mouth again—wait, it seemed it couldn't close it.

The alpha wolf stared wide-eyed at him, its eyeballs crisscrossed with blood vessels, but it remained silent.

"Small eyes,"

Although the alpha wolf didn't seem to be able to bite, Fu Tailan still took two steps back and asked into its mouth, "Shall we go?"

The two eyeballs swayed from side to side a few times, out of sync, as if the ropes tying them had come loose.

"Not leaving? You want to stay in its mouth?"

His two eyeballs twitched up and down a few times.

"But...why?"

This question cannot be answered simply by looking at two eyes. They remained motionless deep within the alpha wolf's throat, staring intently at Fu Tailan.

I never imagined that we would have to part ways after only a few hours together.

Fu Tailan straightened up, looking somewhat disappointed.

"Are you sure? Then take good care of yourself... Come visit me again sometime, Little Eyes."

Although we named it and chatted and laughed with it along the way, whether Little Eyes really exists and what it is are still mysteries.

"Nest dissociation syndrome" is really strange...

At this moment, no one in the security center could stop him.

Countless people lost their lives; those who survived listened to him, closed their eyes, and dared not move.

Perhaps she's repeatedly replaying cute cat and dog videos online?

That Green, he was probably done for the moment he yelled "Shoot!" He didn't even have a chance to think about cats and dogs anymore—serves him right.

Fu Tailan quickly found his target on the screen.

He walked to the monitor screen, pulled out a chair, and then discovered that a young female employee was sitting on the ground next to him, her eyes closed and trembling.

Fear was inevitable, but she must have been thinking harmless thoughts all along—the fact that she's managed to hold on until now shows that she has a strong sense of self-control.

"It's alright, big sister,"

Fu Tailan couldn't help but comfort her, saying, "Think of flowers, scenery, or your favorite singer... Don't be afraid, it will pass soon."

As the blood splattered, he involuntarily closed his eyes, as if he had been slapped in the face by her blood.

Fu Tailan wiped her face, not looking at the limp body falling to the ground, and slowly exhaled a long breath.

……never mind.

He stared at the screen, no longer looking at her, then fumbled around in the security center's internal communication system settings before picking up the phone on the table.

On the screen, an armed bodyguard standing at the door of a room raised his hand and pressed a button on his headset.

“This is Dylan,” his voice came through the microphone in Fu Tailan’s hand.

“This is the security center,” Fu Tailan said deliberately in a calm voice. “Secretary Green has an emergency to report to Prima and will be there soon. Please take the people on this floor and guard the corridor entrances and exits to prevent anyone else from approaching.”

After hanging up the phone, I still need to find that old bastard Green's body; I hope his death wasn't too gruesome, as long as I can make a "driver's license".

“…Received,” the bodyguard named Dylan replied.

Fu Tailan hung up the phone and straightened up.

Even when he tried to avoid eye contact, in the corner of his eye, in the blurred edges, there was always a blood-red, rotten shadow floating around... He couldn't help but sigh again.

"How could this be?" he muttered. "Could it be that I killed Vesilé?"

There's a saying that goes, "If there's any possibility that things will get worse, they will get worse."
Tonight is practically a testament to that statement.

Chaos gradually descended, control spiraled out of control, and the disaster escalated step by step, reaching a point beyond human intervention...

"It seems the news reports have been hiding a lot of things," he muttered to himself.

At least the news didn't mention anything about what happened in the security center of the Wechs Estate—it was as if only Wechsley had died.

Fu Tailan carried his backpack and walked toward where Secretary Green's body lay; he had to lift his feet high to step over the corpses, making the walk very difficult.

However, what troubled him most tonight was not the fact that he used the illusion to kill many people—it was another small detail that made Fu Tailan feel that he would probably never forget it for the rest of his life.

Why does that female office worker's favorite singer... specifically a death metal band?

(End of this chapter)