My sister died tragically, and now I'm a citizen of my motherland, why are you crying?

"What's he doing in there?" Gale asked in a low voice.

The illusionist's eyes narrowed slightly, and a silvery-white light began to flicker in his pupils.

"Let me see..."

His consciousness extended forward, like an invisible tentacle, passing through the door and touching the edge of Lin Yuan's consciousness.

Then, his brows furrowed.

"What's wrong?" Tie Bi asked.

"His consciousness..."

The illusionist's voice carried a hint of confusion.

"Very quiet. Like they're asleep."

There was no warning, no resistance, nothing at all.

"Can you control him?"

The illusionist remained silent for a moment, then a slow smile appeared on his lips.

"able."

His voice was full of confidence.

"I can put him into a dream."

Let him see what he wants to see—his sister, his parents, whatever.

During that time, he completely lost his sense of reality.

"How long?" Iron Wall asked.

"Five seconds, at least five seconds."

Iron Wall nodded.

Five seconds.

enough.

"Let's do it," Ironwall said.

The illusionist's eyes suddenly lit up, and a silvery-white light burst forth from his pupils like an explosion.

It transformed into a thick beam of light, shooting straight into the depths of the secret chamber.

His consciousness followed the beam of light, slithering into Lin Yuan's consciousness like countless snakes.

Then he smiled.

"It's done."

Inside the secret room, Lin Yuan's body trembled slightly.

His head drooped, as if it had lost its support.

The red cloak stopped fluttering and fell behind him.

Iron Wall's lips curled into a grin.

"this one?"

He stepped into the secret room.

A swift wind followed closely behind, without a sound.

The illusionist walked at the back, silvery-white light constantly emanating from his eyes, maintaining his mental control over Lin Yuan.

The secret room was in a mess.

The remains of the strange man were scattered all over the ground, and the air was filled with the smell of burning.

And then there are those who hide in the corners, too afraid to speak out.

But Ironwall didn't look at those.

His gaze was fixed on the man with his head down in the center of the secret room.

"Homelander?" Ironwall's voice was full of sarcasm.

"That's it? I thought it was something more impressive."

He walked up to Lin Yuan and looked down at him.

Lin Yuan kept his head down and remained motionless.

The red cloak hung down behind him like a lowered flag.

"Look at him."

Ironwall turned to Gale and said, "Head down, like a dead dog."

Gale laughed: "Thunder Police were killed by something like this? How shameful!"

"That's why he's a piece of trash." Tie Bi reached out, ready to slap Lin Yuan's face.

Just then—

The illusionist's expression suddenly changed.

His consciousness was penetrating deep into Lin Yuan's consciousness.

He had expected to see a wall; the consciousness of a strong person usually has a strong defense, and it would take time to slowly penetrate it.

But Lin Yuan's consciousness had no walls.

There was no defense, no resistance, just like an open door.

That's too easy.

It was so easy that the illusionist felt something was wrong.

But his consciousness had already entered, and he saw Lin Yuan's dream.

It was an ordinary little room with yellowed wallpaper on the walls, and outside the window was the street scene of the old town of Jiangcheng.

A boy was doing his homework at a table, while a little girl was clinging to his back, giggling and pulling his ear.

"Brother, stop writing and play with me!"

"Stop fooling around, Qianqian. I'll play with you after I finish my homework."

"No, no, I want to play now!"

The illusionist laughed. This is Homelander's dream?

A typical family scene?

He expected to see something—a battlefield, ruins, blood—but all he saw was a little girl throwing a tantrum.

too easy.

He began to manipulate the dream, preparing to trap Lin Yuan's consciousness here.

Then, the scene changed.

The room disappeared.

The little girl disappeared.

Instead, it was a wasteland.

Half of a residential building collapsed, with piles of reinforced concrete debris forming a small mountain, and dust filling the air and obscuring the sky.

The firelight flickered in the ruins, illuminating the twisted bodies buried under the rubble.

The illusionist was stunned.

Is this... an attack by a strange person?

In the scene, a boy kneels in front of the ruins, with a white cloth in front of him, and two human figures covered under the white cloth.

He didn't cry or shout; he just knelt there, motionless, for a whole day and night.

The illusionist's heart raced.

He wanted to quit, but something grabbed his consciousness.

It wasn't Lin Yuan's consciousness that was grabbing him, but rather the dream itself that was grabbing him.

It wouldn't let him leave.

The scene changed again.

Ruins, just ruins again.

But it wasn't the attack five years ago, it was the one a few days ago.

The old apartment building was half collapsed, and rainwater mixed with mud flowed on the ground.

A man kneels in the ruins, before him a hand reaching out from the rubble—a pale, thin hand belonging to a young girl.

The man reached out, trying to reach that hand, but he couldn't reach it no matter what he did.

The illusionist's breathing became rapid.

He wanted to close his eyes, but he had no eyes to close.

His consciousness is here, in this dream, with nowhere to escape.

The scene changed again.

This time it's not a still image, but a memory—a memory that has been repeatedly played, repeatedly tormented, and can never be forgotten.

Lin Yuan stood in front of the ruins, while the Thunder Police stood in front of him, looking down at him.

Surrounded by flashing lights and reporters, Thunder Police wore a compassionate expression, but only Lin Yuan could hear his voice.

"You lowly bug. Your sister's death is for my glory; you should feel honored."

The scene repeats itself.

Once.

Twice.

Three times.

Each time it's clearer, each time it's more jarring.

The illusionist sensed it—that hatred. Not anger, not murderous intent, but hatred.

Pure, primal, and unadulterated hatred.

It surges underground like magma, accumulates in the abyss like a tsunami, and is like a star that could explode at any moment.

Is this the consciousness of the people of the motherland?

This is not human consciousness.

This is hell.

The illusionist tried to break free, but his consciousness was swept away by the hatred, like a leaf being caught in a torrent.

He sensed every moment of Lin Yuan's pain.

The night my parents died, the night my sister died.

Those countless mornings when I woke up alone, those countless mornings when I said "I'm going out" to the empty room.

He couldn't take it anymore.

"ah--!"

The illusionist let out a low groan, and the silvery-white light began to flicker erratically.

Inside the secret room.

Iron Wall's hand had not yet touched Lin Yuan's face.

Because Lin Yuan raised his head.

His movements were so slow that the iron wall could easily dodge them.

But Iron Wall didn't dodge, not because he didn't want to, but because of those eyes.

Those scarlet, cold, emotionless eyes were staring straight at him.

Iron Wall's hand froze in mid-air.

"you……"

His voice was stuck in his throat.

Lin Yuan tilted his head, and a slow smile curved his lips.

"Is it fun?"

Iron Wall's brain buzzed.

"You invaded my consciousness and saw those things, did you find it fun?"

Lin Yuan's voice was calm, but every word was like a knife, piercing the heart of the iron wall.

The illusionist stood at the door, his face deathly pale.

A silvery-white light burst forth from his eyes, spreading uncontrollably in all directions.

His consciousness was still in Lin Yuan's dream, still struggling in that hellish place, unable to break free.

"No...don't..."

The illusionist's voice was so weak it was almost inaudible.

"Let me out...please...let me out..."