Chapter 169: Understanding the Riddle-Speaker, Becoming the Riddle-Speaker
There were actually countless dense bits of information swirling in Xu Zhi’s mind from recent days that she hadn’t yet had time to properly sort through. But those were far too complicated to explain to Zhong Lingfan — she’d have to wait until the Narrator recovered before she could discuss them.
For now, what she needed to tell Zhong Lingfan was only one thing — the end of the world.
As for the matter of the severed path, she could only hint at it. She couldn’t say it outright. How much Zhong Lingfan could comprehend would depend on her own perception.
Even with the topic of the apocalypse, Xu Zhi still had to speak in riddles — just like the Narrator always did.
When she and Zhong Lingfan left the lab and sat down in the tearoom with cups of tea, Xu Zhi pondered how to word things. For the first time, she truly understood how the Narrator must feel.
Sometimes, being a riddle-speaker wasn’t intentional — you simply had no other choice.
After Zhong Lingfan looked at her inquisitively for a while, Xu Zhi finally decided how to begin.
Her first words went straight for the heart of the matter, “Professor Zhong, if an apocalypse came now, do you think humanity could resist it?”
The question came out of nowhere — classic riddle-speak. Yet Zhong Lingfan didn’t look confused. She simply thought for a moment and then asked in return, “What kind of apocalypse?”
Xu Zhi replied, “Like Cloud City… but far worse. There would be variants thousands of times stronger than what we face now.”
“Even ones I couldn’t defeat.”
As she said it, Xu Zhi felt a faint chill at the base of her heart. She guiltily took a sip of tea, wondering whether that highest existence of the [Cup] attribute could somehow overhear her for daring to compare It to a mere variant.
Zhong Lingfan’s brown eyes lowered slightly, falling into thought. After a long silence, she finally raised her head and said, “If it were now… humanity probably couldn’t resist.”
Her phrasing was mild — “probably” — but Xu Zhi could hear the real meaning behind it.
That was just her opening move, though. Next, Xu Zhi suddenly asked another seemingly unrelated question, “Professor Zhong, have you seen the formation diagrams drawn by the Federation’s believers?”
Zhong Lingfan nodded, “The diagrams are incomplete, but from what’s been recovered, it seems they’re all fragments of a massive formation meant to encompass the entire Federation. What the believers have drawn so far are just small edge pieces.”
“Have you figured out what the formation does?” Xu Zhi pressed.
Zhong Lingfan shook her head, “It’s too esoteric and we lack clues — I can’t analyze it yet.”
“Keep an eye on it. If you find any new fragments, send them to me immediately.”
Zhong Lingfan nodded again. Then those gentle yet grave eyes, carrying a deep, quiet intensity, locked onto Xu Zhi.
“Are these two things you mentioned… connected?”
Xu Zhi was slightly surprised — impressed by Zhong Lingfan’s sharpness. Then she smiled, “I wouldn’t know. You’ll have to think about it yourself.”
Zhong Lingfan nodded. “Anything else?”
Xu Zhi thought for a bit, then asked, “Do you believe there are gods in this world?”
Zhong Lingfan’s expression flickered with surprise. She shook her head first.
“I didn’t, originally…”
Seeing this, Xu Zhi raised an eyebrow, “Then you’ve never wondered — what happens when a transcendent reaches the highest level?”
Zhong Lingfan nodded, “Of course I’ve wondered. There are too many possibilities.”
Fair enough.
Xu Zhi smiled and refilled her cup, “With so many attributes, maybe everyone will get their turn to find out.”
Zhong Lingfan caught her implication but didn’t comment. She just listened as Xu Zhi continued, “Anyway… there’s a lot I can’t say directly. But we can’t let ourselves be lulled into thinking everything’s fine just because things seem to be improving, don’t you think?”
“Understood,” Zhong Lingfan said calmly.
Xu Zhi could sense a faint pressure lingering in the air — a whispering warning that she’d already said too much. She regretfully set down her cup.
“That’s enough for today. Professor Zhong, aside from your research, make sure to look around a bit more.”
“Time’s running short — you’ll need to hurry.”
She left behind a small [Lamp]-attribute core and those final words.
After leaving, Xu Zhi sighed. Dealing with secrets was always a hassle. If only she could bypass the secrecy restrictions and just broadcast everything across the Federation with a loudspeaker — that’d make things much easier.
Unfortunately, she still had no idea how to avoid those restrictions.
In her hand, she held the latest fragment of the believers’ ritual formation that Zhong Lingfan had provided. It was incomplete — but it represented all the fragments the Federation had found so far.
When Xu Zhi returned to the little variant’s territory, the battle between the two black cats still hadn’t ended. She sat down and unrolled the diagram.
Compared to most transcendent researchers, Xu Zhi’s knowledge wasn’t absolutely ahead — but with her Eye of Secrets, she could slowly deconstruct formations even without complete information.
In her gray eyes, the scattered fragments began to rearrange rapidly, reassembling themselves into the positions they might hold in a complete formation.
The fragments’ information was extracted, analyzed, and reconstructed — until Xu Zhi began to grasp the meaning within.
Even though the diagram was broken, she could already tell—this was a sacrificial formation.
And sacrifice… was only the most basic part of it.
Or rather — sacrifice was merely one step in a larger ritual. Its ultimate purpose wasn’t to enhance someone’s power.
Unfortunately, the fragments were too incomplete. Xu Zhi couldn’t yet deduce the final goal.
But — if the result wasn’t to strengthen Itself, then what did It intend to do by sacrificing every living being in the Federation?
If she could reconstruct the full formation, she could likely uncover Its goal — but completing it would also mean fulfilling that goal.
“How troublesome…”
If she could only piece together small fragments, who knew how long it would take to form even a rough outline — and who knew whether those believers were secretly building more formations elsewhere?
Worse still, even Midnight bore Its mark.
Not even Xu Zhi could intervene there.
No matter how she looked at it, humanity seemed utterly powerless to stop Its plan.
If they couldn’t stop it — then the only choice was to prepare in advance for the moment when everything began.
Giving up wasn’t an option.
Now that the fog was finally starting to thin — revealing the purpose of the one who had cast it — it would be far too pathetic to surrender before the truth even came to light.
And just as Xu Zhi was finishing her analysis of the ritual fragments, in the cat-shaped tree cage nearby, the fight between the two black cats seemed to have finally reached its conclusion.
