Tonight, Alice joins the hunt.

And this Alice happens to possess a flaw that Luo Ye can never conceal!

..............................

Alice opened her eyes, and the chaotic celestial phenomena that met her gaze, along with the Great Library constantly cycling through destruction and reconstruction, testified to the name of this place—the Abyss of the Heart, the deepest part of the soul of Alice Margotrovid and her collective being. It was the very bottom of the heart, the innermost part of the soul. The light of the heart was conceived here, and this was also the place where Alice and Loya's final battle took place.

The Hunter's Cage cannot confine you here, because reaching this place requires no power or skill; the only thing needed is the resolve to break free from everything. The cage restricts power, skill, achievements, and the level of life, but it does not include the heart.

Luo Ye wasn't here because she was certain, or subconsciously convinced, that Alice wouldn't come to this place. She knew Alice was a cautious person who would never easily start a war unless she was absolutely certain and had prepared enough leverage to reverse everything.

She understood Alice as well as a shadow understands a person's shape.

However, Alice also understood her just as well, like someone noticing the swaying of a shadow.

and so……

You shouldn't have informed me of your existence before casting me into the world of The Witcher 3. Although… you probably had no choice. Loye.

Alice reached out and touched an open book beside her. The next moment, her gaze shifted again.

This is the Abyss of the Heart, the deepest abyss within the heart. She who arrived here is not a physical entity, nor even a mass of spirit, but a purer, primal will, like a 'true spirit' in mythology. Just as ordinary transcendent inner demons cannot leave the Abyss of the Heart, and even if they do, they can only contend for dominance with their original form, Alice's will cannot directly appear in the outer world. The only places she can reach are her own shell within the Wizarding World III and another place entirely.

That was her true form, her physical body, her foundation, the world she had created long ago but had always neglected.

A world of bubbles.

When Alice arrived in the form of an ordinary deep-sea submarine, she saw a completely still spacetime.

Clearly, Luo Ye had adjusted the flow of time here, preventing this world from synchronizing with the outside world. The specific reason was unknown, but when Alice saw the void within the bubble, where darkness had permeated most of the sky, she had a vague understanding.

[The light shifted... Is she repairing my foundation? Strange, why would she do such a thing?]

Alice raised an eyebrow, but quickly dismissed the question. Her deliberate ignoring of the Bubble World under the guise of her dislike for Luo Ye was intentional. She had long anticipated the possibility of needing this backdoor, and thus deliberately created this illusion—she wasn't an idiot; how could she not realize the enormity that a problem with her Dao Foundation would cause? She was simply preparing enough leverage for herself before the final days arrived.

The instability of the Dao Foundation has always been within my calculations. According to my estimation, it can withstand at least three more extractions of the Apocalypse before an irreversible collapse occurs—even if my estimation is wrong, even if I halve it, it can still last for one and a half more extractions. But Luo Ye…

[Forget it, investigating her motives isn't necessary enough to warrant changing my plans right now. The only information I need to focus on is that she's maintaining a certain level of interest in the Bubble World. So... I need to be more discreet and finish this before she completely shifts her attention here again.]

Alice moved silently, controlling her new avatar as she sank into the still ocean, submerged into the deepest part of the sea—a place etched in the minds of every ship girl and abyssal being forbidden to touch. There lay the outer membrane of the bubble, the boundary between light and darkness. She knew she could slip away from the bubble unnoticed, and when she returned to the outside, she had a crucial objective to accomplish first.

She needs to find a suitable kitchen knife.

Section Sixteen: The Path to Truth - Part One

Viserys Targaryen is a true dragon.

If we rewind time to about twenty years ago, this would be a universally acknowledged truth that requires no further consideration. At that time, the Targaryen family ruled Westeros as the sole legitimate monarch, and the lords of the seven kingdoms all bowed to him, the second in line to the throne.

However, that was almost twenty years ago. Back then, the seven kingdoms simultaneously rose up against the tyrannical and cruel Mad King Targaryen. They successfully defeated the Targaryen army, reducing the once-powerful royal family to only Viserys and Daenerys. Although the siblings escaped under the protection of loyal knights and fled overseas to try and rebuild their power, the loss of their army, popular support, and most importantly, their wealth, clearly diminished the glory of their lost monarchy.

If this royal power was once gold, it became bronze after the Targaryen dynasty collapsed and Viserys and Daenerys fled Westeros in panic. And when their loyal knight died unexpectedly, and the siblings were driven from their manor by servants, it was downgraded again, from bronze to wood covered in yellow lacquer. When Viserys sold his crown, using a haughty yet obsequious smile to navigate the relationships with the foreign governors, trying to secure a place for himself and his sister Daenerys, even the bright yellow lacquer gradually crumbled, revealing the rotten wood beneath.

Even so, Viserys Targaryen was still a true dragon.

Yes, that's right. Even though Viserys lived as an orphan with his sister for over a decade, even selling his mother's crown to maintain his dignity and being called the Beggar King by many, selling his own sister, who should have been his partner, to Khal Drogo on the plains in exchange for a promise to take up arms and restore his kingdom, and even though the Khals looked down on him and mocked him with insulting names like 'Khal Remar' (the weak-legged king)—he was still a true dragon.

Why do I say that? The answer is actually quite simple.

Because a true dragon is not afraid of being tested by fire.

When he, along with his sister Daenerys Targaryen, her husband Khal Drogo, and the vast Drakk tribe led by his brother-in-law, traveled to the holy city of Drakk for pilgrimage, he did something that seemed foolish at the time but would inevitably be called a feat in retrospect—he drew his sword in the holy city, where it was forbidden to draw one, and used his sister's unborn child as leverage to demand that Khal Drogo immediately send troops to fulfill his promise to go to the other side of the sea and take the crown that he believed he deserved.

Clearly, no man of his stature, especially one aspiring to fatherhood, could tolerate such a threat. Moreover, Drogo was the strongest and most valiant khal on the Dorask plains. If he couldn't even guarantee the safety of his wife and children, he could forget about being a khal; that very night, some rebellious Dorask brat would break his neck while he slept, and his guards would all turn a blind eye. Therefore, he had to immediately demonstrate his authority with the most drastic measures, while also venting his anger at the threat to his wife and children.

Drogo acted swiftly, punching Viserys to the ground on the spot. However, because bloodshed was forbidden in the Holy City, and because he had indeed promised to help Viserys reclaim his crown, he removed his golden belt, heated it into juice, and personally poured it over Viserys' head, placing a pure gold 'crown' upon him.

The matter should have ended there. Viserys should have died there, lying in a ditch like a disgraceful lizard, forever infamous—but he wouldn't even have been infamous, because people would soon forget him as if he had never existed—perhaps his sister, whom he had always bullied but who had recently stopped paying much attention to him, would occasionally miss him, and might even name her son after him, but that would be all.

He lived like a lizard, and he should have died like a lizard.

However, Viserys Targaryen was not a lizard. He was a true dragon, and one piece of evidence of that was that true dragons are not afraid of fire. Neither the embers of a furnace nor the heat of gold could harm him.

And so, amidst the incredulous gazes and gasps of the many Dorask people present, as well as his sister Daenerys, Viserys, wearing a blazing golden crown, rose once more. The scorching gold dripped from his cheeks and silver hair, burning large, steaming holes in the ground. His once slender frame now appeared incredibly tall and strong, and his handsome face, previously considered effeminate by the rough Dorask people, seemed to glow with a divine light, radiating a majestic aura.

Some of the Dorask immediately knelt, while others, including Viserys's brother-in-law Khal Drogo, roared and, suppressing their shock and fear, charged forward to try and defeat him. Unfortunately, the tide had turned. Viserys, reborn from the ashes with his golden crown, displayed unimaginable strength and masterful fighting skills. Drogo's brothers, the Blood Guards who could easily take on ten, or even thirty or fifty, couldn't withstand a single punch from him. Even Drogo, who was said to be blessed by the gods and had never suffered a defeat before tonight, could only block two casual punches. The third punch broke Drogo's shoulder blade, nearly killing the greatest warrior of the plains!

It was such a close call! If Daenerys hadn't cried out pitifully, "Brother, please don't!", that punch would have smashed right into Khal Drogo's head, smashing his massive head and his invincible braid into a broken watermelon vine and a ripe, rotten watermelon!

Because of his wife's words, Khal Drogo escaped with his life. But the other Khals who rushed to the scene, just like Drogo, and who controlled other Drakk tribes, were not so lucky. The seemingly still-sleeping dragon Viserys, as he had often told his sister, had been 'awakened from his slumber's rage.' And facing this enraged dragon, the brave and fierce Drakk finally learned what a truly formidable fist was that day.

In that dark night, five Khals, recklessly attacking the true dragon without thinking, were crippled. Khals' lieutenants, Ko, and their loyal bloodline guards numbered fifty or sixty. Adding to this the lower-ranking but self-important young warriors of Dorask, by dawn, after the true dragon had vented its fury awakened from its slumber, the holy city of Dorask was left with over a thousand crippled. And as the first rays of sunlight fell, the vast majority of these unfortunate cripples were turned to death by their belligerent, fist-worshipping brethren.

The true dragon is merciful; even in its wrath, it doesn't truly kill just any unfortunate soul. But the Drakks, whose nature is similar to barbarians and who possess animistic beliefs, dare not allow those who have offended the true dragon to live. Except for Khal Drogo, who was fortunate enough to become the dragon's brother-in-law, all the offenders were executed for the sin of drawing blood from the Holy City. Of course, this only applies to mortals. As for Viserys Targaryen, who made their blood see air?

Ha, that's a real dragon, a god walking on the earth. How dare mortals dictate His rules?

When the dragon, having had his fill of beating people, emerged from his undisturbed reverie and turned his gaze upon the holy city, all the Dorask leaders—including Khal Drogo, whose shoulder blade had been broken by his weakened punch—knelt respectfully before him, vowing to cross the black saltwaters and shed their last drop of blood on either side of the continent for the crown that rightfully belonged to him.

And so, on this very day, Viserys Targaryen, the True Dragon, the Crowned One, the Andal, King of the Rhoynar and the First Men, Ruler of Westeros and Protector of the Realm, Khal of Khals, Highlord of Dragonstone, successfully crowned himself in the holy city of Drask, a place unknown from Westeros. And he began his expansion across the plains at an average rate of one title per week.

The Game of Thrones thus became the Chronicles of Viserys. The original script of this world became a tangled mess that would take decades to unravel. Undeniably, this development was absurd, akin to turning an epic masterpiece into a third-rate, illogical novel. However, if one element were inserted into this script, all the illogicalities would vanish.

That meant Viserys Targaryen had already died the moment the golden crown was placed on his head. In his place awoke another person, Zheng Zha, the captain of the Central Plains Team, a powerful figure even in the multiverse!

....................................

"So this wasn't your doing at all. It was Chu Xuan, Patchouli, and your inner demon Luo Ye who plotted against you—and incidentally, they all plotted against us too. That's why I ended up in this bizarre situation where I was about to beat up the Trisolarans one second, and the next second someone poured a kilogram of molten gold on my head?"

Sitting inside his private golden tent, Zheng, now in a different form, stared at the mirror that had suddenly appeared as if haunted half an hour earlier—if the figure hadn't looked somewhat familiar, he would have punched it long ago—his eyes revealed a thoughtful look, something that the Dorask people called 'divine wisdom' swirling within them.

"You think I'd believe that? Do you think I, Viserys Targaryen, would believe the nonsense of someone who's tricked me countless times and can't even produce a single piece of evidence?"

"Stop pretending, Margot Lloyd! This is probably another new version of the Memory World you've come up with, probably another new product combining fragments of the Tower of Babel! I've seen this kind of thing before, throwing me into some unfamiliar world out of nowhere! You've tricked me so many times, do you think I'd believe you?"

The figure in the mirror seemed somewhat angry, loudly arguing in a language that only Zheng Zha could hear.

However, Zheng Zha remained angry.

"Yes, I know you always give me choices, and I just chose the most difficult one. And I have indeed gained varying degrees of benefit and growth each time since then. But, but, but! That doesn't change the fact that you've tricked me countless times!"

"You still want to shift the blame onto Chu Xuan? Are you kidding me? Don't I know what kind of person Chu Xuan is? Maybe he was a little cold-hearted in the past... but that's all in the past! Count for yourself how many times Chu Xuan has helped you and me since his resurrection, how many times he's cleaned up messes, and how many times he's tricked his own people!"

"Lots! Lots! No!"

"Even when shifting blame, you have to follow the basic rules! Margot Lloyd! I don't believe that Chu Xuan, who has never schemed against me since his resurrection, would betray me! I also don't believe that Patchouli, who practically merges herself with you, would plot against you behind your back! Stop with your tricks of using deceptive information to make me suspicious. I won't fall for that!"

"Did you hear me?!" Zheng Zha gripped the edge of the mirror and roared, each word distinct and forceful, "I won't buy this! You ...

Zheng Zha's roar echoed throughout most of the camp, covering several miles, a sound no one could understand, rolling like muffled thunder across the sky. Many Dorask people, Braavos swordsmen, Meereen slaves, and even several governors of the merchant city who had come to visit with lavish gifts were so frightened that they knelt on the spot, their legs trembling and their whole bodies shaking uncontrollably.

This was the wrath of the gods, the fury of a true dragon. Legend had it that only Lady Daenerys, who shared the same blood as the descended dragon and whose name was proven unburnt, could withstand the dragon's wrath without having her soul stolen by its roar—with this thought in mind, the seemingly high-ranking Droask leaders exchanged glances, and then the youngest among them cautiously rose to his feet, crawling back several dozen meters on his knees before tumbling and stumbling towards Daenerys's tent. They hoped that this noble lady with dragon blood could, as the legends said, appease the sleeping dragon's wrath, lest its terrible divine power kill the true dragon's loyal servant like a wheel crushing an ant.

The young chieftain moved swiftly, and Daenerys's tent was not far away. However, when the pale-faced Princess Daenerys arrived before the dragon's temporary palace, a voice, incomprehensible to anyone but filled with rage and authority, had already echoed across the camp for nearly five minutes. Several less courageous foreign slaves had even fainted from fright, their trouser legs a gruesome sight.

Under these circumstances, the brave Princess Daenerys carefully lifted the tent flap.

She didn't even dare to raise her head before carefully bowing. "Homage to you, my brother, the venerable Viserys Targaryen, the true dragon descended to earth, crowned with gold..."

The inexplicable dragon roar stopped.

“Alright, no need for so much formality. My… ‘sister’.” — Daenerys looked up, her familiar yet strange purple eyes seeming to hold the churning of the sea and thunder. She had seen her brother angry before, but compared to him now, he was simply… no, any comparison would be disrespectful.

"Do you need anything? Your subjects cannot bear your... majesty."

The surging sea and thunder subsided.

“Let them in, I have something I need them to do.” Viserys pointed to a mirror in the tent, his tone and gaze revealing undisguised disdain and helplessness. “This mirror… is the beloved possession of one of my ‘friends!’. Find a way to throw it… to Westeros as quickly as possible. Just get it there, and forget about the rest.”

His face seemed a little distorted, and he looked hesitant.

But he added one last thing.

"Don't send our people, let the slave owners... let them send their smartest and bravest men."

....................................

Holy crap, Z actually broke through the Advent Meme and started a new book! Hopefully, the new work will be better than "The Wandering Swordsman".

And today I finally did my monthly assignment, which I've been putting off for months, and started a new Arknights story. It uses the C&C universe, so it'll definitely be very different from the original... The title is "From Tiberium to ***"... Damn, the book review site censored the title keywords, so click on my ID to read it _(:з」∠)_... Please help me add it to your favorites and take a look. If I get over 500 favorites in a week, I'll continue writing, and I'll also add extra chapters here. If not... never mind... _(:з」∠)_

Section Seventeen: The Path to Truth, Part Two

For some unknown reason, news from across the sea always reached Westeros in a different guise. Some said the Targaryen ancestors had been resurrected, others said they had seen dragons on the plains, some said the Drask had stopped herding and instead devoted themselves to researching machinery and building workshops, and still others said Princess Daenerys' husband had died in battle and she had thrown herself into a fire and perished.

There was so much news and intelligence that even the most powerful figures on Westeros were momentarily bewildered. They could only confirm that something significant had indeed occurred across the sea, and that it was closely related to the descendants of the Targaryens. But the specifics remained unknown to them.

Perhaps after some time, these important figures will be able to obtain accurate intelligence about the other side of the mainland from trusted and loyal overseas agents. However, before that, another explosive piece of news has attracted the attention of these dignitaries.

A ship laden with calamity sailed across the sea, casting a curse upon this land blessed by the gods!

..........................................

Even after receiving news that the mirror had crossed the sea and left, Zheng Zha's rage continued for several days. During these long days, he smashed his tent, threw away all mirrors, basins, glass decorations, and anything else that might reflect someone's image… He was so furious that even his closest confidante, the princess, dared not appease his anger. For several days, not a single person in the entire Dorask camp dared to speak loudly. Only when Zheng Zha had had enough of their obsequiousness and left his guards to go out for a walk did these poor souls dare to breathe a little louder.

People were terrified, and whispers filled the air. Humans always possess a degree of curiosity. They desperately wanted to know what was hidden in that mirror, to the point that even the mighty Dragon Apostle displayed such fury. If Zheng Zha hadn't refrained from indiscriminately killing a few, dozens, or hundreds of people, some who knew what was happening across the coast might have even believed that the bloodline of Viserys' father, the 'Mad King' Aerys who brought about the destruction of the Targaryen dynasty, was now manifested in the supreme Dragon Apostle.

Viserys' guards acted spontaneously, suppressing various rumors circulating in the camp while Zheng Zha was away. However, silencing mouths is easier than silencing hearts. Some Doraskians believed the mirror contained a demon, while others thought it was the spirit of an ancestor of the descended dragons. Meanwhile, the governors of the city who came to pay homage exchanged glances, their minds filled with images of ancient demon lords being killed by divine artifacts.

Human desires are endless, but Zheng Zha was completely indifferent to them.

He simply left quietly, walking to a vast grassland devoid of people, water, and any signs of civilization. Then, he gazed at the boundless starry sky, which could be vaguely discerned even in daylight with excellent eyesight—a boundless, yet illusory, starry sky.

This world experiences decades of summer and decades of winter; the so-called celestial sphere does not exist here. What appears to be a cluster of stars are all illusions, essentially distant projections of the world's gods or source energy above the boundary membrane.

There are two things that people should revere: the first is the starry sky above, and the second is their inner soul.

However, the starry sky is fake.

The mind... is also an illusion.

After Zheng Zha calmed himself down completely, he examined his heart and, after ensuring that it was as clear and flawless as ever, he sighed softly in his heart.

That Margot Royd... is fake.

Zheng Zha felt neither joy nor sorrow; his thoughts were subtly shifting. During his conversation with Alice, he deliberately ignited his inner turmoil at being manipulated, projecting genuine frustration and anger. Using this emotion as cover, he subtly probed her intentions.

He deliberately used Patchouli's name for Norrell, whereas in the long past, he had always referred to Alice and Patchouli by their surnames rather than their first names.

This was just a minor detail, but Alice, who had worked with him for seven or eight years, would definitely have noticed this anomaly. And based on Zheng Zha's understanding, the real Alice would have directly pointed out her distrustful actions, and then immediately presented a whole host of facts to prove how hard she had worked and how much she had just suffered. Then Zheng Zha would be immediately humiliated and would have to obediently follow any orders he was given.

Clearly, she did not do that—and with this initial suspicion as the trigger, many other small details hidden beneath the surface gradually came to light.

Zheng Zha realized he couldn't remember the specifics of Alice's words. She seemed to have said something, but when Zheng Zha cleared his mind and examined himself, he discovered she hadn't actually said anything. The phrases that surfaced in his mind were thoughts that sprang from the depths of his heart, not actual facts.

[I'm going crazy... I actually thought Margot Lloyd could be manipulated by Norrell, Chu Xuan, and her inner demon named Luo Ye all at the same time. What on earth is going on in my head, mush? Should I learn from Sirin and just ignore all my intuition?]