Under the Prayer Lake, a coin folds the space

Unlike District​​‌​⁠‌⁠‍‌‍⁠​‌​⁠⁠‍‌‍​‌‌‌‌ 53, there was no time-space distortion in District 84.

The plane landed smoothly, and all communication devices were functioning normally. The presence of a popular religion meant that the standard of living here was better than in District 53. Most people on the streets were well-dressed, and many small restaurants were still open. A little girl, clutching a half-filled bag of flour, clung to her mother’s leg as they walked. From a distance, her eyes were glued to An Yu and his group.

Zhu Tao whispered to Chao Wu, “Your hair stands out too much. Can’t you cut it?”

“The more I cut it, the longer it grows. I’m just as frustrated.” Chao Wu clenched her fist, “I was going to tie it up, but my Commander was sleeping, and I didn’t want to wake her. It’s been growing more recently, and I can’t manage it on my own.”

“How’s the mission going?”

“I’m fine, but my Commander is exhausted. The increase in disorder this year has been overwhelming, and I can feel the tides are changing as well.”

Chao Wu looked around, “It’s strange. The Koi God Religion is so popular, and with thousands of female corpses being dug up from Wishing Lake, the people here don’t seem panicked at all.”

Zhu Tao whispered, “Maybe the information is being suppressed. The fact that all the missing people were young women hasn’t been mentioned in any reports. We only found out after boarding the plane. By the way, An Yu, you didn’t receive any intelligence in advance, did you?”

An Yu’s steps faltered slightly before he responded with a faint “hmm.”

Since entering District 84, An Yu hadn’t spoken a word.

His golden eyes seemed calm, but they were gradually becoming emptier and deeper. The muscles in his arms, hanging at his sides, tensed and relaxed subtly.

Thanks to Jiang Xiao’s brutal training, a slight flex would make the muscles of his arms quite pronounced.

He was enduring.

“Can’t you smell it or hear it?”

Everyone froze, “What?”

Ning suddenly looked at An in surprise, “You heard it too?”

An said nothing, but he grabbed Ning’s wrist and pulled him closer. Ning immediately wrapped his arm around An’s shoulder and gently patted him before turning to An Yu, “He’s easily affected by mental disturbances, so he also heard a bit of what you mentioned. What is it?”

“There’s a constant whisper. It’s faint, but it’s noisy, and it makes people… upset.” As An Yu spoke, he looked up.

— The sky above District 84 was a pristine blue, without a speck of dirt or cloud.

The disturbing whisper seemed to come from some vast, empty high altitude, yet it also felt as if it was being trampled under their feet, creating a disorienting sense of space.

Additionally, the stench in the air was so nauseating that An Yu felt like he might vomit.

He unwrapped the spare bandage from his right wrist and wound it tighter.

In the reflection of the glass window, his golden eyes grew even more intense and under the clear sunlight of District 84, a faint red ring began to form around his pupils.

The Prayer Lake was at the heart of District 84, but it was now off-limits to all residents. A tall security barrier enclosed the entire area, with layers of soldiers standing guard outside it.

The closer they got, the more pronounced the red ring around An Yu’s pupils became. The whispering and stench repeatedly tore at his nerves, like a form of torture.

After identifying themselves to the soldiers, the tight security line was opened to them.

As they stepped in, everyone froze.

“What a beautiful lake…” Zhu Tao murmured in awe.

It was a shallow, crystal-clear lake, reflecting the blue sky and white clouds. A gentle breeze rippled across the surface, and the sunlight refracted into countless dancing lines and points, seemingly slicing the space into small, dazzling worlds. Each of these worlds was bright and pure.

There were no koi in the Prayer Lake of the Koi Cult, no sculptures, no decorations—just a clean, clear body of water. Even the scattered coins at its bottom were as reflective as mirrors.

Yet, despite the towering fences around it, they weren’t reflected in it.

Instead, under the blue sky and white clouds, the lake mirrored the entire city.

Chao Wu asked, “Where are the thousands of female corpses you dug up? Our people said they smelled something foul, but there’s nothing here.”

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“Why?” Zhu Tao frowned and rubbed his foot on the cloth in ground. “And why did you lay these things on the ground?”

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—Beneath the mirror-like surface were layer upon layer of countless naked female corpses.

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Their faces were purple and hideous, with bulging eyes showing only whites.

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But that wasn’t all. Below the rounded bellies of each goldfish-woman, where a normal human woman’s pubic bone would be, there was an eye.

That eye looked like a normal human eye, as if it was staring at people through the earth.

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“It looks like they’re just under a meter below the surface, right? But we’ve dug down several meters and found nothing. It’s as if they exist in a parallel world, and what we see here are just their projections to reality.”

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“It’s a folded space.”

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An Yu stepped onto one of those ripples with his toes, gently walking toward the center of the lake. The wind blew back his hood, causing his bangs to curl slightly backward, revealing golden pupils with a faint red glow in its depths.

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The Commander hadn’t been wrong—the boundary where his “state” arrived was indeed becoming blurred.

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An Yu gently nudged the prayer coin with his foot. It didn’t budge.

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A moment later, he suddenly opened his eyes again.

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The wind carried Ning’s gentle voice far across the lake, and it seemed to echo on the lake.

An Yu’s gaze had originally been cold as he was particularly displeased by being denied.

But after hearing this, his expression turned puzzled for a moment.

“Pray for… the unborn child?” He looked at Ning in confusion. “We?”

Chao Wu whistled, “Whatever, just imagine a fiancé or fiancée in your mind and pray that your future child’s genetic entropy isn’t lower than the lowest between you two.”

She paused, then nodded at Zhu Tao, “Let’s just pair up—me and Grape, An Yu and Ning, and An Yu… you just do whatever you want.”

Zhu Tao chuckled at her words, “Given the genetic entropy of our group, that’d be asking too much of this religion’s God.”

They talked and laughed, and they all picked up a wish coin and started to prepare to pray.

Only An Yu, who stood alone in the center of the lake, had a blank expression.

First of all, he didn’t know who he should imagine.

Second, his genetic entropy was zero, so whether he made this prayer or not, his offspring couldn’t possibly have a lower entropy than he did.

“Hurry up, An Yu. We should go in together,” Zhu Tao urged.

Ning nodded, “Yes, don’t get separated from the healers.”

An Yu numbly looked at them, bent down to pick up a prayer coin, and closed his eyes.

He felt he should think of Ling Qiu—it was quite embarrassing, considering the man was dead and now had to endure this mental intrusion.

But there was no choice; that’s what brothers were for.

The moment the prayer began, the wind suddenly stopped.

An Yu emptied his mind, but his consciousness paused for a moment.

He hadn’t expected that what appeared in his mind would be a small, shiny black octopus.

Or rather, his Commander.

Author’s Note: