I became a god by treasure hunting after arriving 500 years early-Chapter 688 - 508: The Watch of the Little Mirage Dragon
Chapter 688 -508: The Watch of the Little Mirage Dragon
At this moment, the [Ghost] drifted closer, spreading an immense darkness.
It seemed as though the terrifying battle it had just experienced hadn’t caused it even a single scratch.
All the humans, Ratmen, and Lanpeng people were overwhelmed by tension and unease under the influence of the colossal shadow.
“It’s here, at Coral Island’s location.”
That entity resembled a mass of black clouds, engulfing the sky as it descended. In an instant, Coral Island turned dark and lifeless as clusters of mold crept up, exuding a putrid stench.
Fortunately, humanity had conducted an emergency harvest earlier, and apart from the deaths of a few small fish and shrimp, the losses were relatively minimal.
The stars and the sun above were veiled, and even the streetlights on the roads flickered erratically, making a hissing sound.
Green Grass City became utterly silent.
“Everyone, try to maintain emotional composure. Avoid emitting excessively intense mind fluctuations,” Old Cat instructed. “If you truly can’t endure the panic, it might be better to hibernate.”
A handful of scientists were working overtime at the Dream Research Institute near the Opium Poppy tree.
Meanwhile, the majority of soldiers took refuge in Green Mountain, their eyes wide open, nervously monitoring changes in the outside environment.
An active [Ghost] and a sealed [Ghost]—truly, two entirely different states.
As the darkness crept closer, sweat poured down the soldiers’ terror-stricken faces.
This wasn’t due to poor psychological resilience but rather an instinctive physiological response.
When standing face to face with an opponent you can’t possibly defeat, anyone who doesn’t feel fear is either insane or oblivious.
The Little Mirage Dragon clung close to the Sky Pit, exerting all its strength to maintain the “Mirage Space.”
It looked fatigued, its two whiskers drooping to the ground, seeming as though it might collapse into unconsciousness at any moment.
A few animal experts were busy with medication, massages, and injections, but even it didn’t know how much longer it could endure.
Echoes of children’s laughter, crying, recitations, and singing seemed to ripple in its ears.
Then, gazing upon the ruins of the Lanpeng Civilization.
It felt as though it had immersed itself in the history of humanity’s 18th civilization… sensing the weight and depth of the enduring legacy of civilization.
“Roar!” The Little Mirage Dragon let out a faint, hoarse cry, striving to pull itself back to clarity.
Rest assured, I am… a Civilization Guardian!
I will—protect till my very last breath.
At that moment, the Little Mirage Dragon seemed to grow a little more mature.
…
“Mr. Lu, the [Ghost] is now on our side. Are you awake?”
“Yes, I’m in good condition now, don’t worry.”
Lu Yuan opened his eyes, emerging from his dormant state.
His gaze penetrated the protective barriers of Different Space, locking upon the dense darkness.
[Ghost·Spirit Shrine’s Eye] began to drift slowly toward the Mirage Space.
“Did it detect the shadow that Mirage Space left behind?” Lu Yuan’s heart tightened instantly.
“If I had known, I would have switched places with the Little Mirage Dragon earlier—gone to protect Green Mountain…”
“After all, the city’s inner ring and Green Mountain are roughly comparable in size.”
But with the Conch situated near the Opium Poppy tree—his wife versus humanity as a whole—which was more important, even Lu Yuan found hard to choose.
Since the situation had already unfolded, he could only steel his nerves, force himself to endure, and keep observing for a while longer.
“If a true catastrophe emerges, we’ll have no choice but to fight again. I still have a significant energy reserve, and my trump cards are intact.”
“[Powerful Wind]… Could it be effective?” Lu Yuan wondered. In theory, it was an enhanced version of [Steel], possessing offensive and dismembering abilities.
Yet, if sealing couldn’t be achieved, outright defeating a [Ghost] remained impossible… Though delaying it for a time was within reach.
“If it truly comes to the worst, perhaps releasing other [Ghosts] wouldn’t be a bad option. If death is inevitable, why not seek life amidst despair?”
Resolving himself, Lu Yuan felt slightly more at ease. “Conch, how’s your progress? The [Ghost] is advancing toward Green Mountain! Could [Monster] move us somewhere safe?”
“Progress is fairly ordinary…”
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“Huh?!”
Conch Girl, usually gentle in nature, rarely displayed such panic over the headset. “The [Monster] has detected the formation of the Dream Spiritual Network and is actively destroying Jin Bote’s spiritual world.”
“We’re trying to protect it!”
“However, we must avoid excessively aggressive measures; if the [Monster] senses that consuming these 800,000 people is futile, it might escape entirely.”
“Thus, our progress… isn’t very favorable.”
Lu Yuan sighed deeply: “Is there any chance Jin Bote can wake up?”
“I’ve uploaded his soul into the Green Space… Theoretically, yes, but it’ll take time—one evening is far from sufficient.”
“This world evidently holds no miracles… Whatever, we’ll do our best.” Lu Yuan lamented inwardly.
He had protected the Opium Poppy tree well enough, but what of Green Mountain?
The Little Mirage Dragon was nearing its limit—once it collapsed, Green Mountain might face total annihilation.
You… can you hold on?
…
Then, suddenly, [Ghost·Spirit Shrine’s Eye] made a move!
The Snake-man, riddled with corpse spots all over its body, lunged forward ferociously, diving toward the illusionary projection of Green Mountain!
Vast darkness surged directly into the white mist enveloping Mirage Space.
Colonels Jin Dongliang, Guo Dafeng, and Lu Ying instinctively swallowed hard, eyes wide with apprehension.
Various Spirit Runes were held tightly in their hands—after all, even a few seconds of resistance was better than none at all.
“Don’t… don’t panic!”
Jin Dongliang shouted loudly, “It hasn’t broken through yet; it’s still outside! Hold onto your runes and don’t activate them randomly!”
Mirage Space—visible but untouchable—was just like a mirage.
White mist veiled everything around, and all seemed to exist as mere specters.
The [Ghost] was kept outside.
“If it truly breaks in, then everyone should immediately drink the rainwater. We’ll try to buy some time!”
The Lanpeng people like Magmit, along with the Rat Artisans, trembled uncontrollably, some even clinging to each other for comfort.
“Brother Rat, is today truly our doomsday? We’ve only known each other for a single day—and now we’ll die together on the same day, month, and year?” Tears glistened at the corners of Magmit’s eyes.
“Perhaps… we should drink the rainwater!”
“Not yet… I still want to tame Mother Rat.”
…
At the Opium Poppy tree’s vicinity, Lu Yuan also felt astonished, as the large tree before him trembled with rustling sounds.
He watched as the Snake-man [Ghost] surged through the white mist, darting frantically like a crazed bull driven over the edge by frustration.
And yet, it couldn’t locate where the Mirage truly existed.
Inwardly, Lu Yuan breathed a small sigh of relief: “It’s alright… While [Ghost·Spirit Shrine’s Eye] might possess space abilities, it requires applying the Blood Pupil Mark on individuals to activate them.”
“As long as it doesn’t mark anyone, it can’t jump directly inside.”
However, the [Ghost], devoid of emotions, had an abundance of patience to continue its search for Mirage Space.
Its relentless movements caused gusts of wind and clouds to churn amid the space.
Even though its every attempt ended in failure, this perpetual, machine-like behavior exerted tremendous psychological pressure on all who witnessed it.
Especially with the Little Mirage Dragon teetering on the edge of collapse…
The crisis crept ever closer.
“What do we do?” Even the sharpest minds, such as Lu Tiantian, Sha Mo, and Hai Zhiyun—three generations of super-thinkers—found themselves at a loss.
Drinking rainwater and submitting to the [Monster] seemed like the only bleak option left.
Outside, the Opium Poppy tree still stood, accompanied by hundreds of personnel urgently developing the Dream Network to disrupt the [Monster]’s consciousness.
Drinking rainwater now indeed carried a slim chance for survival.
“Just wait a little longer; the Little Mirage Dragon can still hold on for a bit.”
“Don’t approach the edges of Mirage Space—if marked by the [Ghost], it’ll be disastrous. Everyone, move closer to the Sky Pit.”
At that moment, Hai Zhiyun suddenly spoke: “Actually, I think this erratic behavior of the [Ghost] isn’t entirely rational. Based on my reasoning, it can’t possibly linger here forever.”
“What do you mean?” Jin Dongliang glanced toward him.
“This frantic movement back and forth resembles a deadlock loop in a computer program…”
“If it continuously fails to locate Mirage Space, will it simply keep executing this single command indefinitely?”
“If [Ghosts] were so prone to deadlocks, the world would have been peaceful ages ago.”
This remark… seemed somewhat logical, though it also felt as though it grasped at empty conjecture.
Hai Zhiyun licked his parched lips: “Think about it—an illusory mirage-like projection causes a [Ghost] to enter a deadlock loop? Isn’t that too easy to manipulate?”
“If we encounter a roaming [Ghost], could we merely deploy a mirage-like trap to trick it into circling endlessly? This trap feels overly simplistic; even we, as a third-level civilization, can devise such methods.”
“While [Ghosts] lack intelligence, they might possess certain mind-layered mechanisms precluding perpetual loops in this fashion.”
“Hmm… that does make sense,” Lu Tiantian acknowledged, nodding. “Given how terrifying [Ghosts] are, it’s unlikely they can be confined so effortlessly… So, at some point, will it leave?”
“But when exactly would that happen?”
“There’s no way to know—the only hope is the Little Mirage Dragon enduring as long as possible. It will leave eventually!”
Time steadily passed.
That dreadful presence continued its frenzied search amid the dense mist, hunting tirelessly for Green Mountain’s essence.
The Little Mirage Dragon intermittently shook its head.
Toward the end, it was shaking nearly constantly.
Lu Yuan kept his focus tightly honed, nerves taut, ready to act at a moment’s notice.
Whenever it appeared close to succumbing to unconsciousness, it miraculously snapped back to awareness.
The Little Mirage Dragon harbored an inexplicable sense that the fate of humanity weighed solely upon its shoulders—if Lu Yuan intervened, the outcome might turn catastrophically worse; better for it to endure a bit longer.
Its seven orifices began to bleed, and as for the voices of those around, they fell completely beyond its ability to comprehend.
…
…
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